What Happened to Maria Adams Then
by CleverNickname
Summary: A fanfic of Child of the CREEPER by Fnxmoon. Maria serves her sinister little purpose as she struggles to comprehend the motives of the Creeper.
1. Chapter 1

A/N Okay this is a fanfiction of a fanfiction, similar to what redplanetes did with Soulchanging. The original can be found here. (I have the original author's express written permission and given Victor Salva's arrest record I think he has bigger things to worry about then me.

One thing I've changed in my fiction however, 1) We don't know WHAT the Creeper is exactly, he's just the inscrutable monster we all know and love. So enjoy.

_Maria_

Date Unknown

I don't know where I am, I don't know if reality exists, I may be in a dream, all I know is that I'm in pain and I'm going to die

Date Unknown Two days later

Oh God please help me

One day later

HE has comeback, I don't know what HE exactly is, but He is pain, death, evil, and suffering personified. I hide in a little corner of his lair I claimed for my own. He leaves me alone mostly, he happily continues with his macabre work, occasionally those glaring eyes turn to me and I have no choice but to lower mine, And he comes over to me, sniff, sniff, sniff taking in my scent with the strange creepy sound that comes from his breathing. I can't get away.

I think it's been a day

I threw up this morning, all over the floor near my little corner; I really didn't know what to do, so I left it. And remained in my corner. I hoped that when HE came back he wouldn't notice but of course the second he came in his inhuman eyes fell to the immediately to the vomit on the floor. He came over I assumed my defensive position if he tried to grab me or hit me, or even try to touch me I could fight back easier, even though it would ultimately be pointless.

However he didn't seem interested in hurting me again, he carefully smelled me all over and he even sniffed the vomit once or twice, I saw his nose wrinkle in disgust. I was so scared and confused that I looked directly at him in his horrifying face trying to read what he was thinking. He seemed vaguely perturbed but to my relief there was no anger and hostility in his expression and I breathed a small sigh of relief. I also now understood the strange noise he made when he breathed: he had an extra pair of nostrils on the bridge of his nose.

He quickly left and came back with an old oily rag. He gave it to me and gestured to the vomit. I understood; I made the mess I had to clean it up. I wiped it away as best as I could and held the rag in confusion wondering what to do next, he silently took it away from me and left the room. Thankfully he didn't comeback.

Two days later

Today he tried to feed me. He came over with a strip of meat. I could smell it from across the room. It was raw. I had no clue what it was, was he smart enough to know what I'm supposed to eat? Probably not, since it was raw. Then it occurred to me, its probably human.

Instantly my mouth is covered, so is my nose, I don't want to smell it either. I shake my head vigorously, then I modify the gesture into something he might understand, I jerk my head away to the side in refusal of the meat. No I don't want it. Take it away. Take it away.

He seems to understand, he puts it away in his coat pocket. He gives me one last curious sniff before leaving. I sigh in relief.

A few hours later.

I've noticed something, as I sat here as usual I knew I could smell blood in the other room, I knew some one had just been killed in the other room. I felt sad, but a vague kind of sadness, the way you might feel about a genocide in a different country. Yes I feel bad but its far away. Maybe I just grew numb to the horror he causes. What took me by surprise was the fact that I could smell it. I can smell things I couldn't smell before, but then again my whole world seems distorted. I've also noticed his sense of smell seems far better to my own.

Does that mean something? Am I becoming like him? Who, what the hell is he and what does he want?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Yay my first review! woot! To all my adoring fans: (crickets chirp) sorry this chapter is so short, the fic has a lot written but it needs to be seriously revamped. So ch 3 won't becoming for a while.

hey red thanks for the review, fresh! That's one I've never heard before. Beg? Oh I won't make you beg but where the hell is Chapter 20 of the Acolyte?

Next morning

I threw up again. Oh God. I just woke up and I could barely crawl over and throw up away from where I lay. I don't know what to do all I can do here is lay here. Am I dying? I can't stop shaking; I think he's going to kill me. I'm terrified at what he will do when he comes back. Oh God oh God I hear him I can hear his footsteps, he's wearing boots over his talon feet. He opens the door.

The thing I do, the only thing I do is simply curl up into a ball and wait until its over. He prowls over to me, menace hovering in the air around him. I cry silently split between my fear of death and my hatred of my life. The monster is sniffing the vomit again making sounds I can't even begin to understand, but there seems to be a vague hint of antipathy in them. Then he's on me and all of my fear comes surging back. I want to live! Fight! Fight! My brain instinctively cries. So I give in to useless struggle and I'm fighting and biting this personification of evil helplessly. Naturally my panicky thrashing did nothing to help my situation; the beast merely pried me loose and pushed me down using his weight.

Now my fear was beyond any comprehension, it was just the blank terrified state you become seconds before you die a horrible death. But I knew he was planning worse than death. I just lay still.

After a few minuets my mind returns, I realize he's not eating me…or anything else. Instead he's just smelling me, again.

He smells my hair, from scalp to ends; he smells my face and once again licks off my tears of terror. My neck my shoulders my chest, by abdomen. He finally hovers around my lower abdomen sniffing rapidly. My fear resurfaces slightly is he going to…? He finally relents the olfactory assault and stares at me expressionless, his head cocked slightly to the side.

Just as abruptly he grabs me roughly and easily lifts me up. I'm still terrified but my rational mind has gained a bit of control so I don't do anything to annoy him like scream or struggle. He carried me into the other room, higher up in the church basement, the smell of blood gets stronger…

Unknown time

I passed out, His victims were still fresh. I thought there would be blood and guts everywhere but he's a surprisingly fastidious creature. But that does deny the horrible grisliness of his "art", there are corpses, there are bones and flesh.

I'm watching him now trying to stifle my horror as he reaches for a flayed skin, a young man I think, definitely black. He happily stitches it to another skin, a very light shade. I see him hold it up to the light, enjoying the color contrast. I'm laying on a table which I CANNOT stand because this table is where we-

So I get up and stand around stupidly. The beast appears to ignore me, I have no idea what to do. I stand until he reaches for another skin then I retreat into a corner it cowering underneath a horrific quilt of people. Men, women, a few children he made no discrimination based on skin color, a twisted version of those happy diversity pictures they'd pass out in grade school. An equal opportunity monster.

_All these people_, I think as I cry silently, there all dead, kidnapped, killed, flayed, eaten, their remains disrespectfully displayed as amusing decorations, and I'm the only one alive. Why?

I look down at my hand in the dim light, my skin is a light shade of brown; my long dark hair hangs around me like a curtain. Even if he doesn't want my skin why not eat me? I don't taste good? I wonder vaguely how I taste and shudder. But no other victim that I've seen, male or female has ever been-

He stands up suddenly and I immediately freeze, goggling in terror up at him but he only walks over to add to his homely 'quilt' he continues to ignore me. Why aren't I dead? Sometimes I wish he would kill me so I wouldn't have to wait like this anymore. I have no clue what he wants or what he plans to do with me. At least the deaths of his victims are _relatively_ quick. They didn't have to wait for days on end to learn of their fate.

I'm so miserably unhappy and self pitying that I don't notice him until he's in front of me. I jerk up in surprise and I find him gazing at me in a half-amused, half-exasperated "what- am- I- going- to- do- with- you?" expression and I hastily lower my eyes. I desperately want to know what he's thinking but he will not, or can not speak, and I can't bear to look at his horrible face. So I sit there my head lowered cowering silently.

Now I'm regretting my death wish. I couldn't stand not knowing my fate but to see him lording over me, sneering at my helplessness and cowardice, he just oozes malicious intent. Please monster, don't kill me, just let me go.

As the seconds tick by, I can feel my sense of dread growing, surely he is just teasing me, the air probably reeks of my fear. I see his prehensile toes twitching in impatience and now I am-absurdly- beginning to feel a little ashamed, like a dog that messed on the carpet. What does he want?

After I can't bear it any longer I finally look up he's grinning that horrible grin _(o my what big teeth you have!)_ and I just keep looking timidly up at him, trying desperately to read his facial expressions, anything to save my life. He swoops down and picks me up, I can feel the restrained strength in his hands, they're like steel pinchers, they can rip through my flesh if he wants, and he lifts me as if I weigh no more than a doll.

I really don't know what he's going to do, I don't care, I just don't want him to force me again. Again he examines me curiously and- here it comes-that awful sucking sound as he breathes my scent again. Is this how he gets off? I don't care but not again please not again. As I'm limp and pathetic I noticed my increased sense of smell, not only can he smell me, I can smell him. He smells, well he doesn't smell bad, you would think something so frightening and unnatural and horrible would smell like rotting flesh or something but he doesn't. He smells like, I take a deep whiff, he smells almost like earth. Wet earth-or silt or something similar. Something I know, it seems natural and is deeply imprinted in my memory.

Why the hell am I doing this? I'm nearly hysterical, I think I'm numb, I'm sick I'm probably dying but my curiosity peeks out, and my fear diminishes slightly. He knows what I'm doing. I can see it in his eyes, they're widening, _is she smelling me?,_ he must be thinking that. He laughs, it's an utterly bizarre sound, like braying, he even snorts a bit. I smile weakly back despite myself, laughter is good, laughter means he amused with me, and maybe he won't kill me.

Then he pushes his nose against mine; I'm looking right into his eyes, he smells deeply again. He seems happy but I'm freaked out again. I began squirming and panicking, no no don't eat me don't force me again, put me down, put me down. He pulls away slightly his eyes wide he makes something that might be a sigh, or a screech, and sets me down. Eyes glittering he nudges me slightly towards the table. I back away and shake my head forcefully and retreat to that hole that has become my home, anything to get away from this bizarre creature that can kill me-and worse at a whim.

So now I'm in the darkness wondering whats going to happen, replaying his motions and reactions in his head, trying to guess my fate, because my life totally depends on his good humor.


	3. Chapter 3

October 1

I know what day it is. I found my watch; I can also tell that it's 10:34 AM to be precise. I looked at my watch and a surge of panic went through me "_I'm late for school my classes started over a week ago!"_ And then I just had to laugh at my ridiculous first thought, I'm worried about school! I should be worried about getting out of here alive.

My stuff is here, he must have put it here, but I wonder why? I also wonder where my car is, I abandoned it near this lovely human corpse version of the Sistine chapel.

I wonder if they know I'm gone. I wonder if my family misses me. My mother is dead and my father basically ignored me, what about my brothers and sister? My friends? My siblings are all adults, except my youngest brother. Have they been notified, are the police searching for me? Suddenly I feel very very alone, it's my childhood all over again, completely ignored, and I cry in self pity again.

At least I'm not sick, in fact I feel fine. I woke up a little nauseous, but no aches or chills or fevers. In fact despite being queasy early in the day I _am_ fine. How odd. I trust myself to hold down food, and I'm ravenous. I dig through my backpack, and they laughed when I packed emergency food and water.

I'm feeling better; yep I'm always prepared, well not prepared to deal with a flesh eating monster but then again who is? I've always been independent, and by the time I turned eighteen I was self reliant. I begin to feel cautiously optimistic, I'm not that sick, and I'm probably not dying. The Creeper hasn't eaten me and he hasn't given the slightest indication that he plans to. He also seems to understand that I'm sick, so he hasn't made me do anything since my first night here. I shudder and push away at that memory.

Maybe, just maybe I can escape. I could leave here and get help- no I tried that he still got me. I have to run far away from this area as far as I can. Then I can put this behind me.

October 2

The drainpipe. That's how I came in. I'm pretty sure I can haul myself out.

The Creeper is gone now, psyching myself up I force myself out of my little corner and crawl towards the drainpipe, avoiding looking at the horrific "art" and listening carefully and desperately to any out of the ordinary noise.

Fun fact for today: when you're terrified **every** noise sounds out of the ordinary.

Peering upwards into the pipe I can see trees and even a bit of sky. The sun was shining. My heart jumps to my throat. A powerful mixture of despair and hope washes over me. Tears prick the corner of my eyes.

Then I hear him coming, for a moment there is just blind panic, then I regain my senses and flee back to my corner. I run as fast as I can back, running past the horrors to my little "safe-zone". It turns into a ghastly race as I try to be back before he appears.

He appears the second I make it. I nearly sigh in relief but his head snaps towards me. I instantly lower my eyes as he skewers me with his gaze. _He knows_, I realize, he must have caught the last of my movement, now he's coming towards me.

A terrified whimper rises in my throat as I sink to the floor. He catches me quickly though and hauls me back up to my feet. Does he have to be so close? He pushes his long nose against mine and begins to, unsurprisingly, inhale. He smells me all over once again. I sealed my eyes shut to prevent the tears from dripping down.

"_What do you want from me?"_ I whimper pitifully. When I look up I can't bring myself to look into his eyes so my gaze stumbles across his horrific face and settles somewhere on his chin. No sound issues from him mouth, but he draws his tongue over my neck and up to my face.

This obscene gesture speaks volumes and once again I fall to the floor, once again he tries to pull me up, however I resist more thoroughly and use my weight to try and escape his grasp. His attempts to pull me seem half hearted and eventually he releases my wrist, turning his attention to something else, growling in frustration.

Feeling enormously relieved I curl into a ball and press my lips against my knees. Luckily I prevent some of my more pathetic blubbering from escaping but there's no stopping the tears and released whimpers. The Creeper prowls around the basement doing some horrific things. Luckily he leaves me alone.

A day later

I think maybe I can make a break for it today. I'm jittery and nervous; The Creeper seems to sense it. He stomped down here earlier this morning for the usual inspection. Why he does this I have no idea, maybe he just likes the scent of my fear. Maybe he just checks to see if I'm alive. He smelled me but he also looked very closely at me. He forced me up off the ground he looked directly into my face, I refused to look back. I can't bear looking into his eyes.

Does he know?

Date- I don't know

Oh God oh God I can't move, I can barely breathe. I can't talk about it I can't.

Please God help me.

**Creeper **

**She tried to run. Why I do not know. After all she _came _to _me_.**

**When I first saw her, I was angry. She interrupted my first feeding. She ran, I pursued the usual, but to my utter shock she ran _into _the House of Pain. This just didn't happen, that never happened except…**

**I withhold judgment until I catch her. Maybe this woman is different like them; maybe this woman will be the rare exception. Once in a while they don't smell exactly like food. **

**At first I am skeptical; despite her entering willingly into my lair she is not tame. She is still afraid of me, my nose tells me that much. However she realizes rather quickly that it would be useless to try to fight or run as so many humans instinctively do. She pleads but lowers her head in submission. She smells…intriguing. Good to eat but another smell gives me pause.**

**This one _may_ not be for eating.**

**Disappointing she is not fully tame, she starts to cry uselessly. **

**Afterwards I'm hungry, I reconsider eating her, but I decide against it.**

**Later I am glad of it, for the seed took root with shocking swiftness. After only a few tries and hopeful tentative inhales I can smell it's true and I shriek with joy and triumph.**

**Yet I had to give her back; I have to give her back to the human world. She is sleeping but she won't wake up. Even though I can smell that she is fine.**

**I'm worried, some humans rose to positions of influence for their associations with me, most were reviled however, and they were outcasts in their society. Humans are such fickle creatures. She is still a wild human, but maybe wild humans are like wild birds, they attack and abandon the ones that are different. Maybe they will smell my scent on her and attack her, but I'm fairly certain that won't happen, so I let a human find her.**

**When I took her back a few days later she still struggled. She looked at me in terror. She is still wild, in fact she is even wilder, but at least she is alive. Then the sickness comes. She smells fine but I can hear her retching. I don't know what to do but since she smells fine I leave her, and to my great disappointment she does not eat. She refuses the delicious flesh and eats her human food. She is not like the other one.**

**She seems better now she makes a laughable attempt to leave. In my memories it is funny but at the time I was angry, I was angry as I caught her and pulled her back. I could smell her fear it was the greatest fear I ever smelled. I have not hurt her yet she _still_ cringes and whimpers from my touch, but that can be remedied by a little death.**

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Although this is a fanfiction of a fanfiction I draw inspiration from other JC fics as well. Or you can be uncharitable and call it ripping off, whatever you think please share it! I am an author who requires constant reader feedback, or you can be uncharitable again and call me a review whore. Just review please!


	4. Chapter 4

Date unknown

I ran. And of course he caught me.

It was such a stupid ill-conceived plan, it's no wonder it didn't work.

It was daylight, I could see the sun streaming weakly through the roof, I'm pretty sure it was morning.

I was standing in that hideous cavern, the corpses of his victims on the ceiling, I didn't dare look up, I had enough trouble keeping my courage. It was also completely silent, that was a good sign, he was probably out tormenting someone else.

I stepped towards the drain pipe, it was the only way out that I knew, the way I had stupidly fell in. I walked cautiously towards it peering up at the sunlight. It was set at slight angle so I could probably wrench myself out of it.

I loved the sunlight and fresh air that flowed through it, if I could I would have stayed there for hours. But there was no time for that. I began to strain my ears listening for the sound of the BEATNGU truck or any other telltale noises. I heard nothing. I began to put my hands inside the pipe and stuck my head in, trying to get a grip on it.

A rustling noise, that should have been my first clue. Instantly I'm out of there looking behind me, in the horror movies the monster is always behind you. I try to wipe the look of guilt off my face. There's nobody, just his gruesome work, and his desk with the self-stylized portrait carved into it.

Uneasily I return to the pipe, I hate this, I hate this feeling. I knew, I _felt _that he was there, why didn't I listen to that intuition?

Once again I peer into the pipe, my senses hyper alert. A rustle again. I stop, but don't turn around, trying to think. It was probably one of the ubiquitous crows. I am slightly reassured. I manage to pull my whole body into the pipe, trying to haul myself up, if I had more time I could-the rustling noise gets louder, and it won't stop.

_Crows, crows_, I desperately think as I get out and look-

UP why didn't I think of it before? He's there on the ceiling. Of course.

He's a freaky looking thing, he clings to his "art" like a spider, glaring down at me, he looks pissed.

I shouldn't have ran, I should have collapsed on the floor and kissed his feet and begged for forgiveness, but the monster leering down at me was way too much. Instantly I'm scrabbling up that pipe again. Trying to get away from HIM.

I can hear is wings unfolding, the release, the drop, he's coming towards me. I'm close to panic.

It's funny how your mind reacts in an emergency. It's almost like my mind googled the words "help how do I get out quickly?" A flash appears inside my mind I can see it clearly, a few seconds of footage from…a horror movie.

The Ring 2, bad flick, not all that scary, but then again I now LIVE in a horror movie. But that's not what I notice, Naomi Watts is in a well, creepy girl is following her, time to get out. Do what they do.

Left foot, right hand, wedge my body, push against the narrow walls and try to pull myself out. I don't know how far I've gotten but it seems like I'm going fast. Being chased by the Creeper will light a fire under your ass.

But of course it's totally futile. He's much faster, and much stronger than I am, and he's probably climbed this pipe a thousand times. He grabs my foot and pulls me down, I scream and try to haul myself up again, but I can't pull our combined weight, he yanks again. I'm being dragged down; my hands were clinging to the walls so tightly the force of the Creepers pull ripped the fingernails out of my fingers.

And so he retrieved me kicking and screaming and wailing and pleading from the drain pipe. I could have fought more but he simply held me still close to him, sniffing once more. Now I'm just trying to push away. He's angry, I'm not looking at his skewering gaze but his muscles are tense and anger just seems to vibrate off of him.

_Please no, please don't kill me_ is all I can babble and think repeatedly. He pulls away slightly and holds up my hand and brings it up to his face. Strangely I don't fear him eating it; all I could think of are those strange hand kisses you see in classic movies. Enchante' mademoiselle.

But of course that doesn't happen; instead he takes one of my bloody fingers and licks it, savoring it. More disgusted than anything I try to yank my hand away. But of course he doesn't let go, he continues to lick and suck the blood off my ripped fingernails. My disgust and horror is too much. I think I just zoned out for a while.

That's all that, I remember, happened. I swear.

Two days later October 6

I've snapped out my weepy mood. I've been foolishly angry. It's not wise to pick a fight with a creature capable of ripping you apart. If he touches me I push him, any time his face hovers too close I snarl at him. He seems sourly amused by it. Once he was uncomfortably close and for the first time I spoke directly to him in a non-pleading way.

"Don't touch me." I snapped.

He blinks at my defiance, and I fought the urge to smirk, not used to that are you?

He settles down on his haunches and grins that _awful_ grin. My smile fades. A hand reaches out and I flinch, but he doesn't touch me.

I look to see a single clawed finger hovering an inch from my face and I stare uncertainly at him, he simply continues grinning. I draw back but the finger simply hovers closer, but he has yet to make contact with me. He continues grinning.

_What the hell???_ I think. Now I am confused with a hint of anxiety. What kind of game is he playing?

Then it hits me, game. He's playing a game?!

Of course my brothers must have done it to me a thousand times. He might as well be chanting, "I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you!"

_He's teasing me. _

And I feel _slightly_ better; my mouth opens in surprise and even curves at such an odd thought. His grin widens.

8

He mostly ignored me but after smelling my abdomen he reached out and cupped my chin and licked my face fiercely…

I was too tired to resist.

9

I had to leave the church for the first time in days. I just couldn't stay inside any longer. The horror of the dead people lessens somewhat with time but I DON'T like being around them. I still feel ill in the mornings but now I don't think I'm dying. He has not attempted to eat me.

But the thing that I crave most is fresh air and sunlight. My stupid escape attempt only whets my appetite. I need to get out of here. The question is how. I'm inexorably drawn to the drain pipe like a moth to a flame. I can smell the sun and wind and earth above the smell of blood, embalming fluid and the Creeper himself.

He is here preoccupied with satisfying his ravenous appetite. I deliberately try to ignore his presence, and he's not too concerned with me either. I block out the sounds of him stuffing something bloody into his craw.

My sense of smell is so much improved I can smell the outside world, and I need to be there. I hear him growl as soon as my hand touches the metal rim of the pipe. I don't turn around, deliberately provoking his ire.

I continue hanging around the pipe, he growls again when I don't cower away and he grabs my arm, digging into my flesh. Now he's in my face hissing threateningly. For some reason my face is blank and my mind is calm. I'm pretty sure he's not going to kill me at this point, but I'm less sure about his other intentions.

"Please," I decided to plead, "let me out."

He makes a sound that might be a sarcastic snort but how can I tell? He pulls me gently away. I dig in my heels and adopt a wheedling tone I hate, "Please, for just a few minutes? I won't run I swear. Please."

He stops and seems to consider I whine some more, "Please I _need_ to be outside."

He relents, I got him. He begins to lead me away from the pipe and forcefully opens a rusty pair of doors. He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, as if to say "after you."

I feel uneasy having him behind me, I can't see him, but I realize he probably wants to keep me in his sight. He pulls on his battered coat and pulls the hat low over his face. The upstairs of the church is quiet and eerie. Pews are chipped and knocked from their neat rows, probably by the Creeper himself. A huge agonized Christ gapes in silent distress on the far wall, while a more diminutive Virgin gazes serenely down at the snake she's crushing with her right foot.

Normally such objects in their familiarity alone would have been comforting, but here in the presence of the Creeper they just seem twisted and wrong. Fortunately I don't have time to gaze at my deities because the monster is busily forcing open the doors. They open with a noisy creaking protest; he calmly looks around and gestures casually for me to follow him. I try not to look like I'm going to run, but I can't help but be eager. I'm leaving this place. I set one foot across the threshold and he grabs me.

Instantly horror floods me, has he changed his mind? Or is it some kind of sick joke he's pulling? He gives me a growl, a warning, and releases me. The message was clear: don't run. For someone who doesn't talk he can get a point across. I shiver at the thought of him catching me again.

But I'm too happy to be totally affected by his threats. I'm outside! It's not that sunny, it's kinda cloudy actually but the air is not stale or filled with blood and screams. It was Eden, a scruffy lonely kind of Eden but it was a thousand times better than the church basement. I tried to move away from the creepy old church, I wanted to move towards the road more, fantasies of a cop seeing me and rescuing me weren't far from my mind, but the Creeper following closely behind me quashed that. I ambled through the thick trees, some of them starting to lose their leaves; I began to realize it really was Fall. The wind had a slight chill to it.

I felt uneasy with him behind me. Couldn't he give me more space? He seemed morose, glumly following me only out of a sense of duty. I stop and rest in a patch of and dandelions. I resist the childish urge to pick one and blow on it. Maybe I can make a wish. I wish I never stopped at that gastation. I close my eyes and blink back tears

Why did I stop there? Why didn't I leave and get the hell out of this area? Why couldn't I save Elsa's life?

"Oh God he killed Elsa", I moaned the full horror of that was coming back, I couldn't mourn for her then, I was too worried about myself, but now I could think about her and her horrible death. He killed the person who was trying to help me. I understood, he would kill any one who stood in his way.

After a few minutes I was allowed to relieve myself in the bushes, provided he could still see my head from that distance then he pulled me back. I did a quick unobtrusive scan and saw a sign: East 9 Highway Pertwilla County. I didn't see my car but the BEATNGU truck was hid in the bushes. And I now knew the other way out of the church.

The basement was fresh hell after the light and wind from outside. It was all I could do just to collapse in my corner and cry again. I cried for poor Elsa Daniels. I cried for myself.

I was normal. I was once _boring _for Christ's sake.

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A/N: Ha-HA red that review made me blush, twice. Thanks.

Gia: You know my homework is all half-assed anyway.

I updated fairly quickly because I have like 50 pages of this stuff written but I need to separate it into chapters and polish it up. Chapter 4 was already pretty much done, in my opinion.

Also I've been puzzled by small quantity of reviews. I was about to issue a statement along the lines of: _REVIEW GODDAMIT OR I'LL COME AFTER YOU. I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! I HAVE A NEW MACHETE!_ I was wondering why only redplanetes and the friend I had bullied into reading we're leaving some, especially when it said I had 180-some views. Then um…I realized anonymous comments had been disabled. So please feel free. If my fic sucks then please say so, I still have really crappy aim with my new machete.


	5. Chapter 5

October 10

There's only so much a human being can stand and I can barely stand this. It's abominable. He caught someone and brought them back _alive. _Before my badly confused brain realized what was happening the victim ran toward me. He grabbed me howling mad with fear, help me, help me, help me, he begged.

Nothing makes you more afraid then seeing someone else's fear (well _almost_ nothing). Eyes bulging, face pale, mouth in a horrified twist, his hands clung desperately to my body. The fear was so omnipresent and infectious, _I _could almost smell it. The only thing I could do was kick. So I kicked him, I kicked the man away and stumbled backwards gazing at the violent scene.

I was pushing my back against the wall, for once too terrified to even care about the corpses. Maybe I was hoping I could just sink into it and disappear, the Creeper dragged the man away, and with one more ear-splitting shriek he was dead.

Luckily it was dark, I couldn't see the death very well, but I could hear the screams, and the crunching of bones and the little excited noises the monster made as he ate. And I could feel the spray of blood across my face and neck.

I just fell to the ground, straight down. I couldn't even blink I was so petrified. I just sat there in shock not really seeing anything.

I don't now how long I was in that state; it seemed like a long time. I finally snapped out of it when I realized HE was in front of me.

There was blood still smeared around his mouth and my hysterical brain came up with a memory, _(look! a little girl, red juice stained around her mouth, and there's my mother, scold, scold, cocinita, grab my chin, lick a rag, wipe my face)_

He's prodding me, gently touching where the man had groped in desperate terror in what seemed like hours ago. Now he spreads my clothes open gently, as if I were seriously injured. And I'm gazing down at the forming bruises. _Where the hell did those come from?_ I think dizzily. He seems to be examining me, and of course smelling me again.

Now he licks the man's blood on my face and neck. Thank you Creeper, thanks for cleaning me up and checking bruises and making sure I'm not dead but _THERES A FLESH EATING DEMON LICKING A STRANGER'S BLOOD OFF MY FACE._

Everything's gone fuzzy again. The Creeper blurs in and out of my mind. I think I fainted.

A Few Days Later

He's torturing someone. I can hear the screams, not fake TV screams or giddy rollercoaster screams. Someone is being brutally killed just above me.

To make it worse the Creeper is running that old victrola, I hoped it would drown out the screams out but it just creates a gruesome mixture.

_**I don't care what the weather man says,  
When the weatherman says it's raining,   
You'll never hear me complaining, I'm certain  
the sun will shine, I don't care how the weather vane points**_

Something snaps.

_**When the weather vane points to gloomy,  
It's gotta be sunny to me, when your eyes look  
into mine;**_

A scream for help

_**Jeepers Creepers! Where'd ya get those peepers?  
Jeepers Creepers! Where'd ya get those eyes?  
Gosh all git up! How'd they get so lit up?  
Gosh all git up! How'd they get that size?**_

Is he ripping out someone's eyes?! That would fit in with his sense of humor.

_**Golly gee! When you turn those heaters on,  
**__**Woe is me!**_

More irony

_**Got to get my cheaters on, Jeepers Creepers!  
Where'd ya get those peepers? Oh Those weepers!  
How they hypnotize!**_

_**Where' ya get those eyes?**_

_**Won't you put me wise?**_

_**Paid to advertise!  
Wheeeeeer'd ya get those eeeeeeeeeeeeeyes?**_

No more screaming.

The annoying songs stops, sputters and restarts itself

I'm sitting there trembling in shock, I cry. _this can't be real this can't be real. _This has to be a bad dream.

I'm feeling queasy again. I've seen enough death and sickness and evil to last a lifetime. How long till this happens to me? A human being was just brutally tortured and killed one room away from me and I did…nothing.

_There was nothing you could do_

_I could have tried_

_Tried what? Begging? 'cause that's the only way you could have stopped him._

_I could have done something._

I feel like shit. How can I not be changed? How can my mind not be affected by living with this monster, seeing him kill, seeming him eat? Being forced to-

And I realize something, as Glen Miller's _In the Mood _starts playing; if I can live through this, even if I can get away from him, my psyche will never again be normal.

My mind is a sewer that will never, ever be clean.

15

Threw up. Nothing I could do but sleep and watch my memories being constantly recycled into nightmares. Maybe a mind has to "chew" on bad things for a while in order to neutralizes them. Until then...

Unkown

I woke up briefly. I'm in the upper room; he must have carried me up here. I open my bleary eyes and see him at his desk whittling a bone. He takes no notice of me.

I close my eyes and turn over.

Unkown 

Sleep and nightmares.

I don't know

I woke abruptly after a startling dream. It was starling in the fact that it wasn't a nightmare, I dreamed of my mother.

I was laying down, I think; looking up at her, next to her was a dark old woman who reminded me vaguely of my grandmother, or a bruja on Spanish novellas. She said something that unclearly sounded like:

_He's growing fast. He's dreaming of the outside, he's dreaming of his mother's face and of the food the __he__ will bring him. He's dreaming of that food._

She said this in what sounded like Spanish, but who can tell in a dream? And my mother, she looked so worried. She leaned down over me and felt my forehead, as though I were a child with a fever.

_Don't be afraid I will-_

My mind jerked abruptly into consciousness. My eyes were wide open at such an odd dream, my hands-

The Creeper, his eyes were fixed on me and there was something in his look that I didn't like. My hands flew over the buttons of my blouse, and I kept my eyes on the Creeper.

My clothes seemed fine; the Creeper continued to glare at me steadily. What does he want? He's eyeing me with what looks like distaste, like my father did when I slept in on the weekends, I quickly pull myself up.

Maybe too quickly for the blood leaves my head and I tilt wildly to one side. I'm pretty sure I'm going to fall but of course he moves too quickly and catches me before I come close to the ground. It's slightly reassuring despite the horrible memories his touch, smell and presence evoke.

Then there's that feeling, the acid in my throat. I plead quickly.

"Oh I'm dizzy," I say in a weak scratchy voice, "I need air."

He instantly complies and forces open the stairwell door again, and I cannot get out of there fast enough. I'm gasping and rushing up to the church and out the main doors. Before I realize it I'm outside.

I'm still so woozy; everything just seems blurry and weird, like when I drank too much vodka and it made me nauseous. And I can _smell _everything. The asphalt in the sun, the grass, the trees, the old wood of the church, and even…oh, that's shit. It smells like old dog shit.

And that's enough to trigger it, I'm hurling what feels like every meal I've ever eaten onto the dirt beside the church stoop. All of it, there's really nothing that makes you feel grosser than puking. As if I don't feel grimy enough. Ugh.

There's absolutely nothing I can do but wait I'll it stops, and I empty everything in my stomach. I dry heave a few times and then stop completely, shivering in misery on the front steps. After a while the nausea and the lightheadedness passes. And I'm able to stand up. I look around and I'm surprised to see the Creeper standing silently behind me, looking with what seems like mild astonishment at the amount of vomit on the ground.

Somewhat sheepish I turn around and try to walk away, but instantly he grabs me.

Now his touch isn't remotely helpful, he grabs my arm trying to restrain me. Now a sudden anger flares in me again, I know it's stupid and probably suicidal but I can't help but snap viciously at him.

"I'm not going back in there! I won't go back in that place! I'm _fucking_ sick, and I don't need to be around a bunch of _fucking sick_ corpses, so let go of me! LET GO OF ME!"

He snarls and restrains both of my arms which are waving wildly and uselessly in an effort to get away. My long hair is like a rats nest, unkempt and all over the place. Then, unsurprisingly, he starts to smell again, taking deep shuddering breaths all around my body, lower until he's hovering over my lower abdomen and nether regions sniffing deeply. His hands start to roam now, carefully running over me.

It's so odd and awkward that I actually look around in embarrassment. This stretch of highway may be desolate but it's still a public place. How would it look to a passerby? The bizarre tableau of what (looks) like a man sniffing a girl like a horny dog.

Finally he relents and stands erect, however he still has his grip on my arm. I throw all my weight back and protest noisily, he responds by simply letting go. I of course fall embarrassingly on my ass.

_Bastard_, I think as he laughs his strange laugh, I scramble back up and glare at him, he merely grins back.

"Go to hell", I whisper with as much venom as I can put into my words. Then I abruptly turn around and stomp away.

Later

I'm leaning against a tree watching it's leaves slowly fall. Luckily HE has decided to give me a bit of space, I can see him, and he can see me, but I don't care. I'm away and I'm outside of that church, that's all that matters.

My anger has burnt out, and now I'm filled with an empty hollow feeling. Tears prick my eyes, but I resist letting them fall. I hate letting the Creeper see me cry. A wish begins to form in my mind and almost escapes my lips. I wish for a car, I wish for someone to see me. I wish to get out of here. I can't of course but I still wish it. I wish I was home, or at school I just want to be away.

I begin fantasies of escape, I leave the church while the Creeper is sleeping-no wait he never sleeps, while he's hunting then, he's out busy and he doesn't notice me and I slip out. Then I hitchhike, but that's a potential danger too, well I get away anyhow. I leave this area. I leave his hunting ground. I do not look for a phone, or the police. I just leave and put it all behind me. It never happened.

I really don't know why he wants me. I really don't. Maybe he will let me go eventually, or he'll ignore me to the point I can leave, I don't know. But I want to leave as soon as I can, maybe I can still go to school…

While I'm thinking my eyes are closed, and I'm so absorbed that I don't here the sound, I think its part of my fantasy, Then my eyes open, it is the sound of a car engine. I glance around behind me thinking it's the BEATNGU. No the Creeper is fiddling under the hood (how did he learn to do that?) but it's not on, the engine is not running.

Against all hope I turn to the road, yes it's a car approaching! I stare at it like it's an approaching unicorn or a mythical…demon. The very thing I wished for! It's too good to be true. _They won't stop though_, I tell myself. I wrap my arms around my self and stalk closer to the road trying to get a better look. A chill wind blows my tangled hair.

I stand cautiously on the road peering out towards the car; it's a small red car. Kinda old. Kinda ugly. Nothing I would ever choose, but it's a car_. They're not going to stop, _I remind myself. I don't stick out my thumb or wave or anything. I want them to stop, but I'm afraid. I stare desperately, hungrily at them.

Then to my shock, and tentative delight, the car slows, I can feel the driver's eyes on me, she finally, slows completely and breaks. I'm still as a statue. _The car has stopped_.

A window rolls down; a middle aged woman peers out. Kind of plump, graying hair, a farmer's wife?

"You need some help honey?" She asked with a brassy voice, eyeing me with slight suspicion.

"Um…" I say stupidly, I don't know what to say. What can I say? I'm just happy to hear a human voice. And one with some kindness in it too! Happiness-an alien feeling-spreads over me. I just nod and smile politely.

Her eyes shift and look behind me, "Car breakdown?" My eyes widen with realization, she's talking about the BEATNGU, and I spin around and look at the Creeper with his truck. From our distance, wearing his coat and hat he looks like a man. _She doesn't know_ I thought wildly.

"No, no, no, no." I say desperately. The woman reminds me of Elsa Daniels, and if I keep talking to her, or get into the car, she'll meet the same fate. "No, I'm fine. You can leave."

The woman's cool grey eyes widen in surprise. To my regret she matter-of-factly turns her engine off and begins a lecture:

"Look Missy, I stopped because you look like you need help," she eyed me with what looked like some distaste. I feel slightly socially conscious now, I must look like crap. "You look desperate, there's something in your eyes."

_I __do__ want help_, I think, but I can't do anything. This woman will get hurt by HIM. As if by premonition I feel his eyes. I turn around once more and I see he's stopped. He's staring at us. I can't see his eyes, but I can feel the hostility, the suspicion. He begins striding toward us.

Now in a panic I return to the woman. "I'm fine, but you have to leave. Now."

She stupidly opens her mouth to argue but I pounce forward a little, my eyes wide. "LEAVE NOW!" I hear myself shriek. She jumps back and starts the engine, staring at me with a look people only reserve for madmen, a mixture of surprise, hostility, what's-your-problem questioning and a hint of pity. She revves up the car and drives off, gazing at me in suspicion, I look hopelessly back. My one chance.

I feel his hand on my shoulder, but I ignore it and continue to watch the speeding car. He tugs more violently and insistently and I have no choice but to be dragged back to the church. I refuse to be forced down into the basement. I stay in the upper room, staring blankly at the crucifixion. He shrugs and goes back outside to mess with his car again. He locks me in.

The sunlight is more… pronounced here. Some stain glass still remains and I see it making colorful patterns on the floor. Another memory unexpectedly appears. When I was small I used to try and catch the light in my hands and take it home. My mother and older siblings teased me good naturedly by telling me I could do it if I tried hard enough. I remember other silly, funny little aspects of my life. I'll never continue my life again; my one chance just drove away.

I look up around at the church it seems similar to a Catholic church, but simpler, not as many icons or statues. This is a protestant church, maybe Episcopalian. I look up at Christ, wondering.

I think I did a good thing. If I had acted on my selfish desires and got into that car that woman would be dead, or worse. He would have killed her as surely as he would have killed poor Elsa. I still feel bad, and miserable and afraid. But the fact that I did something _good_ makes me feel a little better.

I look up at Christ again, and feeling foolish, I slide off the pew into the floor. I beg for help silently. Now I feel hypocritical, I haven't talked to God since my mother died, now I turn to him for help?

But I have no where else to turn to. I don't know what to do, and who else to ask for help when fighting a demon? I continue to pray silently, repeating all the prayers learned in childhood. Ave Maria, Padre Nuestro, My Guardian Angel, it becomes almost a mantra. In retrospect the familiarity and rote practicing is probably what comforts me. The prayers evolve into reassurances: _I did the right thing, I can escape_, _I can escape_.

I'm so caught up in myself, sitting on the floor, thinking, comforting myself, I don't notice HE has come back. How long he was watching me I don't know. He was very quiet.

I jump up, suddenly self- conscious. I lower my eyes as per my habit, but I watch him underneath my eyelashes. I watch his face. His eyelids are half lowered in boredom, butthere's something sardonic in his look. I feel foolish again, but then his look changes. His eyes widen and his head tilts slightly. He's watching me, and studying me. I really don't like his expression.

I'm led down to the basement again, where I sit quietly thinking of escape plans. He eats some meat he has saved. No live people thank God, and he works a little more on his "art." I look to see him making a knife, shiver, and look away again. I close my mind to him. I ignore him. Still I cannot help feeling his eyes on me. He's planning something, thinking about me. It's making me very, very nervous, but I ignore it

I repeat the idea like a mantra: _I __can__ escape, I __can__ escape, I __can__ escape_. It makes me feel better. But something more vague than the Creepers plotting is in the air. Something is going to happen, but I don't know it. No, I do know it, but I don't.

Puzzled, I focus my mind. Something is different, something is happening. Something I don't like, but what?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: **ATTENTION**, this has been deleted and reposted due to an error, I accidentally left a big chunk of it out . So if you've read this chapter before you _might_ have missed the beginning part.

**Creeper**

**She slept for days. I can see her eyes move in her sleep. I once opened her eyelids to look at her sleeping eyes. They continued to move blindly, not really seeing me, but she was seeing something. It was fascinating. She moans too, sometimes she screams, her arms moving wildly, her feet kicking like a frightened rabbit and her body jerking in her sleep. I know the word for this; nightmare.**

**Then one sleep she stops moving. She is very still, a whiff tells me she's okay, her eyes are still moving. Her lips move but no sound comes. Other than that she is totally still.**

**I don't like it, something is happening inside her mind and I can't explain it, or control it. I want her to wake. I hit the table to cause a loud **_**SMACK**_**. She jerks awake, her eyes big. She stares at me as if I weren't real. She then tries to stand, and she falls over like she drank too much fermented liquid. I grab her of course, I have to smell her again, just to make sure she's still healthy, but she looks at me with desperate eyes and begs, I can smell the coming bile. I let her out and she is promptly sick again. **

**It's so odd, she acts sick, the regurgitation, the sleep, but she is very clearly not. She smells very healthy. She smells better than healthy, she smells ripe, fertile and delicious. Her spirit comes back, her cheeks flame red she yells evil sounding things at me. Then she strides away. I let her go. She knows not to run away. And she stays in sight. I focus on other things.**

**I am so happy! This girl, troublesome as she can be has helped me in enormous ways. She has been a key in controlling my own destiny. I will keep her forever. This might work. I have **_**time**_** now. I can do what I want.**

**I hear another car, I see her next to it and I immediately start to bound over. I'm not taking any chances, not after last time. Humans are weak but wild. She sees me, I see her fear, and she chases the strange human away. I decide not to chase after them, I'm not hungry and it's not worth it. She's still stubborn, she still resists me but to my genuine delight she has chosen me over a fellow human. She is learning.**

**Next I see her on the floor in front of that tortured man. Her head is bent, her posture is submissive, I realize she's worshiping the tortured, I've seen it before. I stifle the urge to laugh. Humans have many gods, and there are many humans. **_**I**_** was once a god. Does she really think this torture-god is listening? But I don't judge them, I just eat them.**

**When she finally notices me she jumps up and looks down submissive again. Does she think I'm a god too? No she threw those evil-sounding words at me, she just fears me. I move towards her but stop. Standing next to the statue of the goddess-crushing-the-snake I see a resemblance. The same eyes bent down, long brown hair. The goddess is swollen, fat with what looks like pregnancy and the girl is still looks normal, and her face is nervous not calm. A vague idea begins to form. Soon she might even be more useful.**

**But for now I just herd her back to the underground and she ignores me. I eat, I work, rejoice in my gained time. I silently thank the girl. I build plans around her.**

**She is **_**so**_** useful, After many, many years I wake briefly, for about one moon's cycle, after that I sleep. I didn't know if it could work again. And any memories about previous events surrounding this phenomenon are blurred. But it has worked. The final day came, I waited with baited breath, I made final preparations. The girl ignored me, the twenty-third day came, and went. I was still awake.**

**I was so happy I licked her face fiercely and enjoyed her again. She did not resist.**

**Every twenty-third spring for twenty three days I am allowed to eat.**

**Today was day 50.**

October 25

I found my watch again. I was very surprised at the date. That depression/ sleeping fit lasted a very long time.

But that's what I do when I'm upset, I sleep. The nightmares were horrible, but they are fading now. Those memories, those scenes in my head will stay with me forever. I can't forget them and I'm sure there's more to come. For now I can push them away somewhat. They don't consume my every waking and non waking thought. But I _can_ escape.

Or at least that's what I keep telling myself. Something is nagging me. I think back to the dream of my mother. "_Don't be afraid I will-"_

I will what? I woke up so quickly, did HE wake me up I don't know. Why would he?

The there was the other aspect of the dream. _He is dreaming_, who is he? The Creeper does not sleep.

I shake my head, telling myself it's just a stupid dream. Dreams don't have any meaning. They're just recycled memories and ideas. They're just random neurons firing. This one was no different than the nightmares.

_And yet_, I can't help but go over it again, and again. It's driving me insane. I also study the weird feeling around me. SOMETHING is going to happen, or will happen. Everything is different, but not different. My world is inexplicably altered but I don't know how. Everything is the same but different.

_Well duh Maria, you just found out that demons, or whatever the hell THAT is, exists. Now you're a captive. You've seen people tortured, you've seen people killed. You've been-_

"Stop!" I say aloud to myself. That did not happen.

So my mind is just warped from having my cozy reality destroyed. Fine. Monsters exist, and my life sucks badly. My worldview is different, everything is now obviously unusual. Why wouldn't it be?

_But it's not the same. __Something__ is not right. _

"Aaaggh." I cry out loud again. I'm going crazy! Things look, hear, taste, feel, and smell different but in am indefinable way. I want to break the wall that separates my mind from my subconscious. It feels like it knows something I don't, despite my mind working furiously at it.

I take a sip of water, it tastes stale. The Creeper is away. Hunting probably.

Why did this happen to me? I ask for the millionth time. Maybe that has to do with why things are different. Why did he want me?

_You know why._

I shake my head. That didn't happen. That did not happen.

Later

I sleep and I dream.

Dream 

_I know I'm in a dream, so it should be a lucid one. But it's not._

Everything is blurry and odd in only the way a dream can be, I am walking through the trees; everything is pretty but not cultivated garden or breathtaking wilderness pretty. This patch of nature is simply pleasing to the eye. It was like the trees and plants outside the Church. I felt serene walking through the trees when one tree caught my attention.

_Such pretty fruit_, I thought. It is bright red. I move toward it, it looked so delicious.

As I approach the tree the snake/demon appeared, thicker than my arm and longer than my body. He looks at me with human eyes that showed the inhumanity beneath them. An extra pair of nostrils stood higher up on his face. He has molted green/brown skin.

He grinned his characteristic grin; I didn't question how a snake could grin.

**Eat the fruit** he whispers. Maybe he didn't talk maybe he said it directly to my mind.

_Are you sure, I mean…It's okay?_ I ask suddenly uncertain.

He said nothing he just jerks his head to the fruit above him. His eyes glint malevolently.

For some reason I did not fear the snake, but I felt uneasy about eating the fruit.

_Hmmm, it truly does look delicious_ I said thinking out loud. I really wanted that fruit and I wasn't stealing since no one owned it. So I decide to eat. I stepped closer towards the tree; my short body would have to stretch for it. The snake eyed me as I stretched out in front of him. I stretched as far as I could, my hands reached as I high as I they could go. I reached for a lush ripe fruit. Still on my toes I twist it.

And then to my absolute horror I see the fruit begins to bleed, blood gushes out of it. No it wasn't fruit, it was human. Human body parts ripped and bloody and hung from a tree, the smell suddenly hits me. Rotting flesh!

I gasped and drew back, but before I could get recover, and before I could even get off my toes the snake attacks. I scream in terror and try to fight the demon/snake off, but his powerful lithe body pushed it self against my taut abdomen. I fall to the ground trying desperately to fend him off.

His fangs thrust painfully into my stomach I could feel the venom burning inside of me, my hands swat uselessly at the serpent as he continued to pump his fangs into my lower abdomen.

When he was done I swoon and lay lifelessly on the rough grass. With my last strength I hold the snake bite with my bloody hands, I could feel a burning feeling originate from the wound and spread through the rest of my body.

My stomach! My stomach is swollen. It's swelling up like the ripe fruit on the tree, the putrid human-fruit.

_Oh God_, I moaned, I could feel the burning the heat and spurts of hot liquid, but then I felt the change, the change in my soul. What it felt like after the Creeper -

I could feel the demon snake on me. He slithers up my body up one leg, onto my abdomen, onto my chest, between my breasts, to my face. He begins to taste/smell me with his forked tongue, exploring, his malevolent eyes looking down at me. I look back through tears.

_Why? _I mouthed, because I could not speak.

The snake continued to look at me with those awful eyes; I felt his tail flick over my swollen belly.

**You know why.**

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thanks to all those who review! redplanetes: I can't even _think _about your posts without laughing insanely, so naturally they come to mind in very public places, thank you for that. Gia: Thanks for reviewing again, I heard that euphemism before but I was reluctant to use it because a certain someone used it in her fics. "nicole": thank you ; D. Eat-me: (Interesting name for a Jeepers Creepers fan) Thanks that was the effect I was hoping for.

_Paradise Lost_ by John Milton was the main inspiration for this one, as well a spate of recent lucid dreaming. I heartily recommend it. (the dreaming not the epic poem) Also a little bit from the Popol Vuh the Mayan creation story found its way in here. Fun fact for today: The Mayans have their own bat-demon-god called Camazotz. Which in turn was the name of an evil planet in Madeline L'Engle's _A Wrinkle in Time._

/Okay book geek mode off now.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks to those who review. Poor Maria :'(

26

I jerk instantly, fully awake, shaking uncontrollably. My hands automatically run over my body, checking. Reluctantly I pull myself up I continue feeling-

The dream! My brain is jumbled, desperately trying to retain the dream in my head. I can recall it. The details are still fresh in my mind. What an odd dream. My eyes widen as I remember the snake bite, and despite myself I foolishly lift up my shirt and check my stomach.

I sigh with relief when I see no festering fang holes or swelling. My stomach is still there. Maybe there's a little more of it than last month but oh I'll never worry about a few vanity pounds again. I'm just happy I'm not dead with a belly full of poison.

However the rest of my dream floods back. That snake, I try to recall his features, he was obviously the Creeper, or something like him. It was the Creeper in snake form. As I recalled the other details an uneasiness spreads over me, I almost ate human flesh, the snake bite was horrible deja-vu.

I close my eyes as the worry became deep anxiety, which in turn morphed itself into physical nausea. I wanted to throw up again but I managed to hold it in. I continued thinking about the dream. What did it mean? I felt, I don't know, but I knew it was important. But all the answers scrambled, put into code by my subconscious. I couldn't decode it right now.

I opened my eyes. It was definitely morning; it was much lighter in the horrible dank basement. I moved towards the light in the upper levels. I loved the light. I bathed in it. The one drawback was that I could see. I could see his dusty agonized victims hanging all over the place.

_They're just corpses_, I told myself_, they can't hurt you._ _They're already dead don't feel sorry for them. Their suffering is over, __they__ would pity __you_I still didn't like being around them, they were simply too horrifying for a normal human psyche. I moved toward the drainpipe and the beautiful light that showered from it. It was almost a religious experience; I meditated in the light, simply thinking. My stomach calmed.

_Hmmm I wonder where the Creeper is? _I didn't see him; I opened my eyes and checked the ceiling for good measure. No he wasn't there. He was probably out hunting again. I peered up the drainpipe, could I run again?

Something told me I couldn't or shouldn't run. After all he might be back in a minute I had no idea how long he was gone. Or he could just be outside, or in the upper layer of the church._ That's good thinking before you would have just __ran__ compulsively_. Yes I was learning, I was more cautious, that was good. But I felt something wither inside. I felt I was more… accepting of my fate.

My mind began to work feverishly wait until for certain he is going to be gone for awhile. Double check for him or his car then run near the road but stay hidden, hitchhike at the first opportunity and ask to get the hell out of there. If he starts chasing you abandon the car and run.

_Hmmm hitchhiking can be a problem, too many weirdoes out there, but its better than the alternative, just take a knife or something. _

Okay that was my basic plan, not bad. But it would take a while to execute. Failure is not an option. If I get caught and punished…

My stomach rolled sickeningly again; I can't let that happen another time. It reminded me of the snake bite, the same horrible, helpless feeling. I shut my eyes in misery and struggled not to cry. I have to admit this even if it's just to myself. I can't ignore the reality of what happened any longer.

I hear a fluttery noise above me. My head snaps up to see something blocking the drainpipe then falling…

I scrabble out of the way just in time to see something wrapped in a sheet drop unceremoniously down onto the floor. I stay close to the pipe and listen; I hear another, then another. One, two, three sheet covered objects fall to the ground. Recoiling at the sight of what clearly appeared to corpses I looked cautiously up the pipe again.

Peering down was the ugly face of the monster that so cruelly held me captive. I saw him catch sight of my face peering back at him, and he happily grinned and shoved himself down the pipe. I quickly backed away, thinking I could retreat back to my little corner because I did not want to be near him. However he climbed down the pipe much faster than I anticipated, and with lightning speed he had climbed out, righted himself and bounded over to me.

His hands were on me, holding me still; He pushed his nose briefly against mine. I felt the air rush around me as it was pulled into his inquisitive nostrils. His fingers ran themselves absent mindedly through my hair as he smelled it carefully. I held still and kept my gaze down, don't fight him, don't look at him. He finally pulled away I managed to look up and saw him regarding me with his awful eyes. _The eyes are like the snake's_. I looked away again.

He turned away to and began focusing on his meal. Even if they were already dead it wasn't something I wanted to see. I turned and ran back to my "room" he did not follow me. I felt relieved.

His presence alone was enough to terrify me into submission. I could not help but recall back to the dream and its horrendous conclusion. A few tears slipped out, then more and more until I forced my hand over my mouth to stifle my pathetic sobs and whimpers. I sat there in the semi-dark listening to the crunching noises and the deep echoing gulps, crying silently in self pity, thinking of the nightmare.

It meant something, I knew that now. It was about what was bothering me…

I remembered, the strange feeling, I had almost forgot it, it was a part of me now. Everything was different.

_Why does he keep me? _That's what I asked myself, and my answer, what my subconscious answered was; _you know why_.

I stopped crying and looked back up towards where the creature was. The snake's bite, it's violation of me. My gut clenched and my tears flowed again. I was a plaything.

30

I left him alone for a long while and thankfully he left me. I ate my increasingly stale rations. I'm going to have to find more. HE is gone again for reasons I'm not privy to. I've been quiet, thinking. Everything is as silent as a grave. My thoughts are in turmoil.

There is something I can't deny the reality of any longer. Something bad happened to me and I can't hide it any more, and I know this has to do with what feels like a madness setting on me. It's the key to why this has been happening.

It's hard though to guess what his intentions and motivations are. I've gathered up every dim memory and forgotten legends I've heard about him. I've heard of the story of Trish and Darry, but the details are confused. We're they lovers or siblings? Did he kill them both? What did he want again?

In a sense he reminds me of El Chupacabra. I've heard legends and stories. Heard it from the cousins of my cousins in Puerto Rico, but you dismiss it; take it all as embellishment or legends. You never expect to see a monster, let alone be kidnapped by it.

He gives no clarification about himself either. I've never heard him speak, he only growls like an animal. He can make his motivations clearer through facial expressions or pantomime, but these motivations are simple: Don't run away, stay there, come here. Nothing that gives a clue as to why he would kidnap a random girl. How am I supposed to understand what happened to me if I don't know what he's thinking?

_Ask him._

The thought is so simple and clear and easy that I feel incredibly stupid. Duh it's obvious, just ask him. Of course after a few seconds of thought I can see the problem with the idea.

_He can't speak._

_Or he __**won't**__ speak; you've never really asked him anything._

_What if it makes him angry?_

That was a problem, but I was fairly certain I wouldn't anger him. I've seen him angry, he was furious when I tried to run, and his punishment was terrible. _No no no don't think about that_. So I doubt just me asking questions would bother him, but I made a note not to do it while he seemed busy.

No sooner had I thought this than I heard him descending down the pipe again. I peered out nervously. Yes more people, I hear moaning. I quickly close my eyes and stuff my fingers into my ears, just like when I was a little girl and the commercial for the scary movie came on. I don't want this in my memory. I cautiously open my eyes when I think it might be safe. I can see the bodies aren't moving in the dim light. They're all dead. I sigh in slight relief, it's so much worse when they're alive.

He's eating now, that actually gives me some respite. I can't talk to him now. I giggle slightly, it would be rude, bad manners, don't talk with your mouth full! In truth I'm just nervous as hell. I'm whistling in the dark. I actually have to _talk _to the horrible creature. It's something I need to do. I need to know. But actually moving willingly closer to him, starting a conversation. Somehow this is terrifying.

I steel myself. He's busy now, but he won't be forever. I have time. I'll talk to him, but not right now, but I'll do it I swear.

Midnight

He's done now. He's not eating anymore. Now he's working, I heard him move a few things around, carving, cutting, making. How on Earth did he learn to do all this?

He's at his desk. He's taken his coat and hat off, his wings are tucked neatly behind him, and he's gazing interestedly at the human remains on his table. What to make, what to make.

I know this because I'm watching him from the shadows. Cowering timidly at the jarring alien image of an inhuman monster as a master craftsman. This thing has put me through more horror, pain and fear then I could ever imagine possible, and now I have to ask him why he did it. I'm so violently afraid I'm shaking. _Just do it just do it, get it over with. _Filled with trepidation I emerge slowly from the shadows.

It's darker; he's lit a few candles. He's gazing at the odd collection of glass bottles and tubes and thread and wires that litter his desk. It looks like a cross between a mad scientist lab and a sewing kit. This monster is just beyond bizarre.

He doesn't notice me, I am silent and he is absorbed in his work. _Now or never, Maria_. I move in closer so that I know I'm in his line of vision. I control my shaking and try to make my face more neutral. I remind myself not to wring my hands or fiddle with my long hair in nervousness. I know he sees me, but he does not acknowledge me, I peer over his desk, pretending to be interested in his work. Well I am a little interested, how does he know how to do this? I really want to know. I use my genuine interest to quash my fear. Just rubbernecking, Creeper.

He finally raises his head to see my curious looks. He stares at me, _now or never, now or never_. I look up into his eyes, _oh they're so horrible, hold it together, Maria_. Before I can stop myself my hands play with my hair again, and my voice comes out in a ridiculous squeak.

"Uh, um, um, Hi." I blurt out quickly, "Can-can you, um... speak?"

He blinks at me a few times, and then his gaze lowers in what seems like thought.

_Maybe he really can't speak, how is he supposed to tell me, you idiot Maria_. Now I'm feeling awkward_. Does he even understand me? No I'm sure he understands he's understood me before._ I'm wondering if I should retreat now, I'm feeling a little sick again.

Then to my surprise sound issues from his mouth, it's not words but it sounds like gagging almost. I stare, politely puzzled, waiting for a response. He chokes out some sounds then to my surprise he begins to speak!

"Can." He jerks out. He grabs his throat. "Speak." He says deliberately. "But not good," He gestured to his mouth, "for speaking." He gestured to the human remains, the flesh scraped neatly off the bones. "Good for _eating_." He laughed at his own labored sentence.

I didn't join in, my mind raced. So he can speak and he can understand. He's just not really designed for language. Who is he normally going to talk to? But my mind had exploded with a thousand other questions. Luckily it narrowed in on one, the most important one. I choked out pathetically over the tears in my throat, "Why did you take _me_?"

Now he's staring at me, he looks somewhat confused. I realize I have to elaborate so I blurt out again "Why am I here? Why did you-?" Even here, just between us, I can't say, the shame is just too intense; my cheeks flush red I and clutch my stomach as if I were wounded. My mind drifted back to the snake bite.

His eyes widen at the gesture, and then lower in brief thought again, and then he quickly jumps up, suddenly energized. "Child." He whispers eagerly.

I back away slightly, confused. What, is he calling me a child? I shake my head slightly, I didn't get it. "Child." He repeats, suddenly his hand rubs languidly down my breasts my stomach between my legs. "Child." He drawls out. I back away in fear now.

Something is buzzing in the distance; my hearing seems to have gone bad. My ears have a fuzzy ringing in them. My mind is wading in tar. Something is about to crash on my head, _danger, Maria Adams, danger_! What is that closing in on me?! I feel even more ill, claustrophobia…

He grabs a piece of half worked bone; I dimly recall seeing him carving it earlier. He starts on it again. He takes a knife, scratch, scratch, scratch, he uses his claws to work out the finer details, and then he's done. He hands it to a dumbfounded, silent me. I look uncertainly back up at him then to the bone. And I began to see the scratches are actually pictures. Simple, but beautiful in their own way.

_These pictures_, I think. (What _is_ that ringing noise in my ears?) They show him, a man with wings, he's in some kind of pose, and next to him is another figure. It's a woman, easily identifiable by her stylized curves and her long dark hair. I realize-

"Is this me?" I ask looking up at him, he nods brusquely and I continue on. There is the demon and the woman, me and him. I blush again at the salacious scenes, but my eyes are quickly drawn towards the end. The demon and the woman, me and the Creeper are more crudely carved here due to the rush he put at the end, but there is a third figure…

My throat is burning, and it all crashes down on me. Everything slams onto my head. One small corner of my mind jumps up and down in excitement "I get it! I get it!" The rest of my mind begins a slow long howl of misery and fear. It can't be real.

I think he kicked my legs out from under me, or more likely I just collapsed, still clutching that piece of bone. _It can't be, It can't be…_

But it all makes sense now doesn't it? The odd feelings, the mood changes, the increased sense of smell, the sickness in the morning_ ,morning sickness__ you idiot_, I laugh hysterically. What else would result from the Creeper's unwanted attentions? Why else would he want me? Why else would he smell me so attentively almost everyday? Why else would he not eat me?

I can't deny things any longer, despite my feverish desire to make believe nothing happened. I walked in on him feeding. I ran her pursued. I ran into this church, thinking I could escape when he found me. He…he forced himself on me, and he let me go. Then he recaptured me. I have since refused him but I can't resist every time He has enjoyed himself with me a few more times after that, despite my desperate protests. Now the results are staring me in the face. Still…

"_**How could this happen?"**_ I scream inside my head, I might have screamed it aloud too, I was way beyond caring. But it had happened, I knew. The Creeper uses human body parts for food, tools, decorations; he's simply using me in a different way. I think I can even remember when it happened exactly.

He's in front of me now, what is he doing? Trying to pull me up it seems, but my mind is too far gone. I manage to raise my torso shakily; I can see him blurrily through my tears. I want to cry and scream and attack and bite him but all my curses and accusations are lodged in my throat, all I can manage is one trembling finger pointed at him in accusation.

Now all my rage and pain has hardened in my esophagus, it's caught there, I can't breathe. _I can't fucking breathe! _I gasp and I gag as my mind crashes down again. No more air. I'm back on the ground gaping like a fish out of water, I'm dying but all I think of is _it's not happening, it's not happening_. Reality has simply stopped existing.

I'm almost out, almost gone when I feel a sharp punch between my shoulder blades. My body heaves up a lump of whitish vomit and my throat is cleared. Air rushes in but I still black out. The last thing I see is the bone he gave me. In between the woman and the demon is a third figure. A little one with little wings, _of course, it all makes __perfect __sense._

I'm pregnant.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Too soap operaish? I wanted something dramatic but I didn't want to over do it. More reviews so I updated quicker. I edited this to _god speed! you black_ _emperor_'s song East Hastings AKA the spooky song from 28 Days Later when Jim walks around a deserted London.

Read and review yadda yadda…


	8. Chapter 8

Doesn't matter

Does not matter, nothing matters.

Unknown

I am seriously considering suicide. But I don't have the meansor the will for it.

Unknown

Violent morning sickness. Oh God, I can't live like this anymore

Unknown

After what felt like weeks of inertia HE, that murderous, raping bastard came to me.

I hate him, this disgusting, hideous, evil thing. What is he?! Why does this thing exist? How could he do this to me? I might've even been able to forgive him if my flesh now resided in him and the rest of my remains were on his wall or on his desk, but no. My flesh has far worse, and fortunately for HIM, far more pleasurable uses. What IS he? Isn't he immortal? _Great so he doesn't even have to answer for his evil in hell._ Where does he come from? I've tried to gather my thoughts. I've tried to recall every legend, rumor, myth and scrap of information I've heard about him, but my mind is so jumbled and the information is so scarce that I simply can't do anything about HIM.I buried my face in my hands. I was stuck here, indefinitely. I will probably die here, and I _swear to God_ I can hear a clock ticking in my womb.

HE came to me, he's come before but I was far too concerned with my own grief and horror to pay to much attention to him. He's been keeping me closer than usual, maybe he thinks I'll choke again. Unfortunately I haven't.

He roused me out of a fit of severe depression, I was lying near that table, he tried to keep me on it but I just could NOT be on that thing so I just simply curled up under it. He smelled me but he generally left me be. But today he grabbed me and hauled me out from under it. A surge of panic and disgust shot through me. _I hate you, I hate you_, I screamed, my fists, which are so small and laughably weak compared to his, beat uselessly.

The Creeper of course was having none of it. Effortlessly, one handed in fact, he heaves me up and pushes me ruthlessly on the table.

"NO!" I scream, I put my whole being into fighting, arms flailing, legs kicking, biting and scratching wherever I can, and it's still not enough. He still pushes me down and forces his weight on me. "Please," I'm sobbing now, "please, please." However he doesn't listen to my pitiable pleas. He forces me down. I don't care its not worth it, I just try to lay still. It'll be over soon. Just close your eyes and get it over with. _Just do it, just do it_, I think. He's not ripping my clothes off, or climbing on top of me. _Don't torture me just get it over with._

Still nothing, he just holds me down. I try squirming upwards again he pushes me down again. _No, no, no_, I think, but he's not forcing himself on me. He's simply holding me down. I manage to calm myself, but I still hate it, I hate his pressure on me. I gradually stop squirming. He relents a little. The second he moves away I'm gone. I hate that fucking table. Before I can even blink, he's on me again; he's pushed his whole weight on me now. I shriek and squirm uselessly, but the more I struggle the harder he presses on me.

Now I can't move, his whole body is pressed up against mine. If I resist he growls at me, those nasty teeth are an _inch_ away from my face! I just have to lay still, I don't look at him, _I'm somewhere else_. He gets up slowly. His hands remain on me. I don't move. My muscles feel like they're going to start jerking in confrontation. I can feel the potential energy in them, but I remain still.

Now he smells, a long deep gasp and –_hahhhh_-, another gasp then –_hahhhh_- as he releases the air from him lungs. I sigh, perhaps in exasperation. But I'm so relieved. Then he lets me up, very slowly; I have to remain submissive to him. _Evil creature_ I think. He now holds on to me, still smelling, but he observes me visually too. I hate him.

Finally he pushes me away towards my "room", He gestures to my assorted crap. "Get things." He says. I'm feeling apprehensive. "Wha-Why?" I ask confused by everything. He turns to me and says matter-of-factly, "Leaving."

Later

I quickly pack my things, stealing glances of him. He simply gathered what he needed in one big armful. I guess he's not materialistic. I thought maybe, _maybe_ he was letting me go. But that's just a pipe dream, and I realize that he's merely taking me somewhere else. With realization comes disturbing revelations. I realize now that I can't simply escape. If was clever enough I might be able to outwit him, but I'm obviously not, and if by some miracle I do, I just can't deny it happened as I had foolishly planned. He's still inside of me.

Midday

We left early morning all my stuff was in the back of that ugly truck. I still saw no sign of my car. I wanted to ask him, I wanted my car back, I wanted my life back. But I knew if I started screaming at him I would never stop. I can't lose my self now, reality is already blurred. I want to sink my fingers into the soil so I don't slide off the face of the Earth.

So I'm lead, dumbly and docilely like a lamb to that grotesque vehicle. Only a few protest tears slide unnoticed down my face. He herds me to the car while he observes the dawn critically, as if he was expecting bad weather or something. I force myself into that car. The truck's not big on creature comforts. Although I wasn't exactly expecting leather trim and a 5 disk CD player; although, he doesn't have working dash lights, turn signals, or a speedometer either. The windshield has white milky edges like a cataract beginning to form around an eye. It reeks of death. It's every bit as ugly on the inside as it is on the outside.

And of course he drives fast.

He turned to me and grinned, and I pointedly looked away. I hate him so much. After a while I could be semi-comfortable on the filthy seat. I even dozed off a little. However he soon woke me by abruptly ramming into some poor traveler and nearly throwing me out the windshield. My anger erupted into screams at the same time that horrible horn blared.

"Ugh Jeeeesus" I groaned rubbing a golf-ball sized lump on my head. That stupid horn didn't help my forming headache. I turned to him and saw him eagerly leaning over the dusty vents. He sniffed the incoming air, trying to catch a scent, trying to smell a victim.

All my anger was suddenly replaced by horror. Is this what he does? He must have done this to me, smelling my scent trying to see if I was good to eat…

The foul language stays in my mouth. I bite my tongue. Thankfully the Creeper drives past the poor car. No one is hurt except me. I groan again, he pointedly looks away from me.

_I want out of this, I want to go home._ I panic desperately and uselessly as I gaze outside the tinted window. _What did I do to deserve _this? I feel like I can't breathe again, but I don't succumb to hysterics. I don't fall asleep again.

Later we stopped for gas.

He found an old abandoned tanker lying curiously in a field near the road. It was already half hidden by the weeds and trees, and it was lying comically on its side like a beached whale. Needing desperately to stretch I got out and poked around. A fist sized hole in the windshield told me all I needed to know about the history of this truck. I shivered and moved away.

While he siphoned and transferred the gasoline, I retrieved a roll of toilet paper from one of my bags. I felt him scrutinize me but he let me walk into the bushes unhindered. Here in the unkempt foliage I have a bit more privacy, and I enjoy my time alone. I consider running through the field trying to escape, but I dismiss it, it would never work, he would catch me. A vision of him swooping down on me like a hawk catching a field mouse passes through my mind.

Reluctantly I return to the BEATNGU truck. My feet felt like lead, a bad emotion floods over me. I stupidly lost my edge of fear then. I didn't see him so I assumed he was on the other side of the truck. I did not remain hyper vigilant. I was distracted by my reflection.

Now I close my eyes wearily. How could I have been so stupid?

Lately I had been wondering what I looked like. I was wondering when I would start to show. I wanted to see if I looked different after almost two months of hell. So when I saw myself reflected in his ominously tinted car window I became curious. I moved in close and inspected my face. I look worn and pale.

My eye barely caught it. Out of the corner of my eye I see the shadow of a figure wearing a Stetson hat; before I can process this information and react he pounces.

I'm pushed up against the truck; I can smell it's covering of dust. I can smell him. His weight is against me again pushing and pushing. My pelvic bones bang brutally against the car door. With all my might I push back against his body, but it's like trying to move a brick wall by simply leaning on it. No use, no point. He redoubles his efforts and my entire torso is pinned between him and the truck. He's in between my legs now, I can't move, my arms are being held by his. I gasp at the sudden intrusion and can see my breath fog the window as he pushes against me repeatedly. _Don't struggle no use, no point_. He pushes against me again and again and again; I just close my eyes and will it over. It becomes nearly unbearable when I feel his tongue explore my neck then remove a drop of sweat from my temple. The grunts in my ear increase. _Just don't struggle._ Then, as quickly as he's started he's finished. He simply pulls away and leaves me alone.

I sink to the hot asphalt, and try to vainly cover myself with my tattered skirt.


	9. Chapter 9

Next Day

Yesterday we arrived at our intended destination. I don't know where or what it is but it's constantly dripping and it's gross. Luckily there are no corpses on the walls; at least that I could see. He rushed out after shoving me inside. A deep rumbling "need food" was issued as the only explanation. I just sat down in the driest corner I could find and waited, praying for whoever crossed his path. I didn't bother to cry.

November 6

I awoke from another nightmare. I dreamed he was still behind me pushing and pushing.

Getting up was painful, but staying on the floor was worse. The cold from the concrete felt like it had seeped into my bones. I felt like an old woman with arthritis, I hobbled around before finally finding enough room for stretching out. Then I winced when I accidentally bend the fist sized bruise between my shoulder blades. It's still very sore. I looked down at my self again, surely my body is changing. My bones must be shifting, maybe my pelvic bones are widening. My body is making room for the- whatever it is. I just can't bring myself to call it a baby.

Blinking and stumbling I find my way around. Everything is dark wet and cold. Why couldn't I be kidnapped by a monster who liked to live on the beach? Despite myself I suddenly smile at the unexpected idea of The Creeper on a beach, working on his tan. However my progress comes to an unexpected halt as he pushes his nose against mine, smiling his horrible smile back. I stand in silence, afraid and resentful, but he seems not to notice, he pulls me towards a room. I really don't want to go. I don't what his intensions are, but what choice do I have?

"Ughh," I grimace at human remains, some are still new. One woman is largely intact, with eyes blindly staring at me. I close my eyes in dismay. I just want to leave, but he won't let me. I can feel him coldly appraising me, what does he want? I just can't be in here for much longer. He walks over to a pile of clothes, rags really. _They must be from his victims_, I thought.

He reaches through the pile and pulls up a shimmering blue object. It's intact, like he carefully preserved it, while the rest he just ripped up. He brings it to his nose and smells with eyes closed, like it contains some exquisite perfume. He then hands it to me. I take it, uncertain. His motives are so bizarre, but I'm too afraid of him to say no. I look at the cloth. It looks like a scarf, it's a deep royal blue. Abstract symbols in silver thread decorate it on one side; the same symbols in gold decorate the other.

It's rather pretty, but a bit impractical, and I really don't need it. I look up at him in question. He makes a motion of putting something on his head, so I try my best to obey and hesitantly lift the scarf over my head. It's gauzy and nearly opaque, I have no idea how it's supposed to go on but I kind of wrap it around and tie it like a head scarf. Then look back at him.

He moves forward and unties it, letting it loose around my head. He fiddles and adjusts it until he seems satisfied. Then he stands back to admire his handiwork. I look down on the ground uncertainly. The blue cloth hangs down around my face. This seems oddly familiar…

Then he suddenly yanks the cloth off and bundles it away, grinning in self satisfaction. I stand uncertain, my eyes happen upon the dead woman. I can't stand this anymore I have to leave, I turn to the door. I felt his hand on my shoulder, like I knew he would. I close my eyes,_ just get it over with you monster._

Smelling me, that's how it starts, he smells me all over. To my relief he turns away but he comes back and shoves a brown bag into my arms. Then he seemingly dismisses me with a wave of his arm. I don't hesitate, I get out of that room as soon as he resumes him meal. The woman's frozen terrified eyes follow me. She's begging me not to leave.

_Don't be stupid she's just a corpse,_ I tell myself. Still I am relieved to get away from the Creeper and her. I run back into my chosen spot. I'm so sickened, and sad, and afraid that until I'm in my chosen little corner I simply don't remember about the bag I'm carrying.

He gave me a bag of groceries.

7

The grocery bag had some interesting things. A loaf of wheat bread, some eggs, which are useless unless cooked, a small block of cheese, some apples and a about a quart of milk, and a bag of M&Ms. I puzzled over where he could have possibly got it before I realized I was being stupid - again. He must have got it from one of his victims.

I put the bag slowly down, disquieted by the realization. I was eating a dead person's food. A dead person's _stolen_ food. My mind grappled with the morality of my situation.

I realized I hadn't eaten in a while; food was just the last thing on my mind. The trauma of everything, and seeing the side of people only morticians should see didn't help my appetite.

Should I eat this food? I wondered. Would it be right? Why should I even eat? Because this bastard wants me too? Anger erupts inside of me. I should just kill myself, leaving my bloody corpse for him to find, to hell with whatever plans he had for me. I hate this, I hate him, I hate _EVERYTHING._

The anger burns out again. I feel hopeless but I resist the stupid urge to cry, it won't do any good.

I can smell the bread; it smells so fresh, my mouth waters. _Screw it_, I think. I'll think about the morality of this situation later. I need to be strong because I'm going to get out of here, pregnancy or no pregnancy. I eat about a quarter of the bread slices and drink half of the milk.

10

The milk went bad, I had no way of preserving it and this place seems designed to grow mold. The eggs were starting to smell rotten before yesterday was over. To amuse my self I went outside and threw a few of them at the crows. I also ate one of the apples and most of the bread. The M&Ms weren't bad, as I was craving something sweet. However I was reluctant to remove the cheese from its plastic wrap because of what happened to the milk.

Luckily I haven't seen the Creeper much, I feel better already.

12

I egged the BEATNGU car.

**Creeper**

**Her odd behavior continues. A few days ago she collapsed and stopped breathing; I hit her back to force her throat open, and more vomit spilled out. I had to keep an eye her since then. She mostly cried and slept, but thankfully she did not choke or stop breathing again.**

**I looked at the bone I gave her. It had no functional purpose; it was just something I made in my newly freed time. When I offered it to her as an explanation she fell to the ground. I've made sure to keep it away from her since then. I think the remains of other humans disturb her. She is not like the other one.**

**I need to leave this place. I can't hunt as much anymore because she needs to be watched. Luckily my body has…slowed. But I still need food, and she needs to eat if the unborn is to survive. I thought I should take her to a place with fewer humans, since their remains disturb her so.**

**However when I rouse her she becomes irrational and laughably violent. It angers me so I assert my self. She screams and fights even more so I respond by simply pushing more of my self on her. She cries but eventually slowly quiets and stills. She is learning very fast.**

**For a moment I close my eyes to block out my sight, focusing on her scent. She smells so delicious; I might have eaten her if she wasn't so pleasurable. I still want to eat her, but another scent fills my nose. It smells like me but it's coming from her. My resolve not to eat her is strengthened.**

**When I reestablish control she is quiet and obedient. She gathers her things and puts them in the truck like she is told. I can feel the simmering anger underneath her though. This might be fun.**

**On the road hunger begins his eternal gnawing. The woman ignores me and sleeps, which annoys me further. When I spot a car I can barely contain myself. Ramming it to draw out the sweet scent from within I wake and injure the woman, who screams in rage. To my disappointment she does nothing else. The driver does not smell good.**

**By the time the sun is high I am ravenous, but I haven't seen a human since the last car. I began to notice the woman's smell. She goes off on her own, I keep my eyes on her and she does not run. She pokes around the gas truck like the curious young creature she is. Then she goes off alone but I can hear that she has not run away.**

**I transfer the gas**** pumping into my truck. The woman is downwind, foolishly spilling her scent into the breeze, to me. She smells so good. The scent that is mine-but-not-mine fades in my hunger. When she walks innocently in front of me, her back is trustingly turned, I almost give in, but I know I have to stop myself. Still I seize upon her, pushing her onto the car.**

**She gives out a small cry like a wounded bird and pushes her body back, which only serves to arouse me further. As I smell her hair I nearly bite her skull; I want her soft flesh to melt in my mouth, only a thin line of reason keeps me from devouring her. With a massive effort of will I transfer my hunger into my desire. I will have her body but not eat it too. It's pleasurable, it distracts me from my hunger and it allows me taste her without endangering her life. She doesn't resist but I can feel the tenseness is her muscles. Oddly I can feel her hip bones protruding as well.**

**When I finish I pull back and adjust my trousers. I take two steps and she falls to the ground again. I almost rush back but I can hear her breathing deeply, so my worry fades. I start the car, the tiny needle points to "F". I am satisfied.**

**The girl remains outside. She's still breathing but her head is down in a submissive posture and her hand pulls pointlessly over he clothes. I don't understand the gesture so I simply haul her inside and shut the door. With out anymore delays I drive to the catacombs.**

**When we finally arrive the hunger asserts itself again, but I know where humans are. I leave the girl and go hunting. I am wildly successful. I find plenty of fresh food and devour them before I can even consider bringing them home. I was beginning to feel full when I spotted a woman.**

**Oh yes, she was food, she had the smell. But what caught my eye with the blue cloth on her head. When she saw me her brown eyes grew big with terror. She dropped what she was holding, screamed and ran. Like she had a chance.**

**When I snapped her neck I had a fleeting vision of the girl, this woman reminded me of her slightly. I dismissed the vision and lifted her up to take her home, making sure to save the blue cloth. It gave me an idea. I nearly left when I saw what she had dropped. A good sniff and careful prodding revealed a bag full of human food. It smelled distasteful to me but remembering the girl's bones sticking out in my hands I grabbed it as well.**

**I found the girl wandering aimlessly around and quickly put the blue cloth on her head. She tied it around her head so that she resembled the previous owner again, but I let it hang loose. Her likeness to the snake crushing goddess increased, but she needed to be bigger. Soon she would swell with child, and can be of even more use. I also gave her the human food which she accepted without comment. Then I turned to the woman's corpse.**

**To my surprise she wasn't dead, I had merely paralyzed her not killed her. Interesting. Her eyes gaze at me in wide unblinking horror. I grab a cleaver to correct that.**

20

I have been doing NOTHING all day everyday. Well I have done a little. I manage to make my concrete corner a little more comfortable by spreading rags and blankets on the floor. I've eaten most of my food and I….egged his truck. He never brought it up.

Two extremes have captured me. Sometimes I just sink into the floor, staring at nothing, my mind rushing but going nowhere. Sometimes I cry , staring at my hands, thinking I'm not me anymore. I must have died, I must be in hell, or I'm stuck in someone else's body because this can't be happening to me. Once I caught my reflection in a piece of polished steel and didn't recognize myself.

On the other hand I've brutally angry and energetic, almost manic. I jump up and walk around, sometimes I pace outside if he leaves the door open. I make escape plans that I never execute and once in a fit of rage I threw my remaining eggs at his truck. Afterwards I was shocked and terrified but I could not bring myself to clean it up. After what he did to me on it I hate going near it. However he did not confront me about it.

In fact he has started largely ignoring me again and he certainly never talks to me. He still smells me and I'm pretty sure he stays in hearing range, maybe he's afraid I'll freak out again, but he hasn't touched me. I thank God silently.

I've sat in my corner trying to gather my thoughts. Bits of rumors and half-forgotten Creeper lore have accumulated in my brain, but I've found no use for it. There are no stories of escape or of his defeat. He seems universally victorious, if he wants something he will get it. Too bad for those he wants to get, you just have to be killed.

Depression again, but I'm not dead, sometimes I think it would be better if I were He kept me alive. I'm still here.

Partly out of boredom, but mostly to distract my troubled mind, I dig around my bags to find my old notebook. I run my fingers over my doodles and drawings, my silly sketches and notes. When my eyes linger over the things my friends drew and wrote, I have to look away.

It all seems unreal; this can't be mine, even though I _know _it's mine. It seems like an ancient thing, a relic from another age. I might as well be holding the Rosetta stone. I turn all the pages again until I find blank paper. For some reason this soothes me, it's fresh, it's new, it makes me feel better. I begin to draw.

I draw a pretty smiling girl. She sits on an old tree swing. Her long dark hair erupts from my pen and flows down to her shoulders. She's happy and safe in her two dimensional world. I draw other things; birds, dogs, a family, friends. It's not great quality, I don't have a lot of natural talent, but the bland happiness captured in the pictures makes me feel slightly better.

Nevertheless as the day wears on and everything becomes dark my drawings change. The cute robins and larks become crows. A woman who was supposed to be alive looks dead. I draw a beautiful field of ripe corn that somehow oozes malice. And by the time fresh screams erupt from deeper inside the building I draw a demon with wings and fall asleep shaking and clutching my notebook.

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A/N: Kind of a filler chapter, but more will be coming soon. Please R/R.


	10. Chapter 10

21

Threw up the last bit of the groceries. I think I threw up the cheese, or the milk curdled in my stomach or something. I groan in disgust and wipe my mouth. I almost forgot I was pregnant. Almost. My stomach is not big yet, I wonder how long it that will take.

As my thoughts turn to-this unborn thing- I develop fresh panic. What is it? What on Earth will it look like? Oh God what if it kills me? How will I ever manage to give birth to it? Jesus, what if it _eats_ me inside out?

As I get back to my corner I collapse and cry in dread again. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? I have to do _something,_ it won't stay inside forever. I think I'm feeling a panic attack coming on again. I cup my hands over my mouth and nose and breathe rapidly. I do this for what seems like hours until my breath deepens and I can no longer hear the wheezing of air being forced into a narrow panicked windpipe.

After a while I forget what I was thinking about.

I'm lolling in the corner; I think I'm high from lack of oxygen. I think a silly smile is on my face. I feel a nose against mine, I hear that sound-what is it? That sucking sound… Oh! I know what it is! It's that creepy noise Hannibal Lecter makes!

"Ha-ha-ha- HA!" I scream/laugh in near hysteria. "He eats people and you eat people!", I giggle stupidly, "do you enjoy fava beings and a nice Chianti?"

He hauls me up off the ground and pushes me against the wall. He isn't rough but he isn't gentle either. "No, no, no, no, no", I moan in horror I struggle to find a way to resist but my mind is like molasses, so I just let a few tears drip down. He just smells me, his nose is right on my lips and he grimaces in distaste. He knew I threw up. He lets me sink to the floor.

"I'm sorry." I whisper. Why the hell did I say that? It's not my damn fault I threw up. In fact it's _his _damn fault. But I'm just frightened and miserable. I sink to the floor. He looks back at me, then opens his mouth, "Chianti, don't smell good." he grunts. Then he grins. I smile demurely back. I'm just grateful.

Later

I was sleeping soundly. Then I open my eyes. There was no transition, no sleepiness; I was just instantly, totally awake. I had remembered the carving suddenly. I put my hand over my womb.

"He's going to have wings." I whisper.

For some reason this does not alarm me. I fall gently back into sleep.

25

Just dry heaves. There's nothing left in my stomach. It's so empty it hurts. This is probably the hungriest I've been in my entire life, but I don't care. I'm just too distracted.

I'm a captive and a plaything, I'm bearing the child of what I assume is a demon. I've been raped. I've seen people die in horrible ways.

But there's nothing I can do.

I know he won't eat me, and I don't think I'll die having this child. Yet I still have to worry, I really don't know anything yet. What will happen if I do escape? What happens afterwards? There are too many unknowns. I want to cry in helplessness and scream in rage.

My biggest fear is being raped again. He can do it anytime he wants, and there's nothing I can do to stop him. He loves my taste and smell, he almost seems addicted to it.

_I was a virgin._

That thought comes totally unbidden. I never really thought about it, but it's true. It was never hugely important to me. I was told, I mean I was basically asked to remain so until marriage. However I was a virgin because I simply had no desire for anyone yet, not because I believed in the morality behind it. But now that it is gone I'm unhappy, well unhappier. I feel my resentment towards the Creeper grow.

I can feel my eyes prick again, I've been crying too much. My eyes seem swollen it feels like the lids don't close over them at night sometimes. There's nothing I can do. I have to be strong until I get out of here, but what of the "child"? I didn't really believe in killing the unborn, but can I do it now? Can I kill it? Will he be a man-eater too?

I shake my head, too many unknowns, I need more knowledge, I- I need to speak to him again.

26

I've drawn some more, and I've wandered around, mostly out of boredom again. He stopped to smell me when he did he saw my pictures I left carelessly on my "bed".

When he made to get them I tried to grab them first, but he was much too quick for me. He snatches up the flimsy little notebook from my "nest" of blankets and rags and gazes the first page curiously. Now I'm horribly embarrassed. Even as the feeling washes over me I realize its illogic, a small flame of anger simmers underneath. _This is MY notebook, these are MY things don't touch them you slimy bastard!_ Luckily fear and reason keep that flame on low.

Still I don't want him looking over what I wrote, what I drew, what my friends made for me. My throat tightens and I try something desperate. "Please." I beg and move closer, "please give it back" I make to grab it.

Once again he's too quick. He simply holds it away from me. I move even closer awkwardly trying to grab it, while he tries to hold it away and read it simultaneously.

"Give. That. Back." I say through my effort and gritted teeth, the anger is seeping through this is dangerous.

I'm too close to him, way too close. Closer than I would normally voluntarily go. But anger, frustration and silly human possessiveness has held the fear a little at bay. I realize what I'm doing when he stops reading and simply stares at me. His face is way too close for comfort. We're practically nose to nose again. He stares at me and smirks.

I slowly get off my tiptoes and draw back. Before he has the chance to grab me I retreat.

Later

I've been quiet, and he hasn't bothered me, but I want to get my notebook back.

I'm so afraid of him, you have no idea how stifling this mortal fear is, how paralyzing his effect can be. I don't fight back, I _can't_ fight back. What can I do?

I chew on my knuckle in distress, then begin reassuring myself: _He won't kill you, he doesn't want to kill you, if he wanted to kill you he would have done it a long time ago._

True, he could have, and would have killed me long before if that was his desire, and of course now he can't, but still being near him carries other risks, I sigh at the bitter memories, of the stupid mistake I made in poking curiously into the gas station, of sliding down the drain pipe thinking it was an escape, of stopping to stare in wonder and horror and his "art".

_It will happen again eventually._

I sigh in resentment and bite my lip, tears welling again. Then I abruptly decide not to cry, I'm too tired of it. My yawns tell me that the fatigue is physical as well. I've been drained of energy. Thankfully I'm not required to sleep in his presence, even when he's not violent he's menacing. His company, his glare, his eyes, it's all too disturbing.

But I have wonderful dreams.

Sleep

My dreams were not vivid, they were not regurgitated horrors or even frightening messages, they seemed almost happy.

I dreamed of a friend, a friend I've had forever but had never seen. He spoke gently to me, he put his are around my shoulder, he reassured me, and he teased me and called me good natured names. He was like a brother.

He seemed aware of my predicament and deeply sympathetic, like he understood, and even if I felt the urge to sink into despair his comforting presence and general good nature never kept me sad for long. He was such a joy to be around.

Two things bothered me however: I could never see his face, which I felt disappointed him. He always seemed behind me, or just next to my shoulder or just some how frustratingly out of my range of vision. As much as I wanted to turn to see him I couldn't, either the dream prevented me or for some reason I couldn't bring myself to do it. However he didn't press me about it, even though I sensed that he wanted me too.

What he wanted me to do the most as something I didn't want to do. It was never directly stated but my dream-brother-friend wanted me to gather my courage, he wanted me to confront HIM.

I couldn't do it, I didn't want to do it, and I protested it with all my being.

He didn't coerce, or threaten or even try to persuade me. He simply implied that it was something I had to do. He tried to free me from anxiety; he said I could do it. He claimed I was brave. He said once bad things were gotten over with they weren't as bad.

I woke up shortly after. I had the distinct impression that whoever this boy was, he was long gone.

27

I've been hovering near the hallway that leads to his gruesome little workshop; I've taken several deep about-to-plunge-in breaths. I've been psyching myself up all morning. I have yet to do anything.

All this time I've felt so slothful and useless. Maybe it's the sickness I have in the morning, maybe it's the fact I haven't eaten in a few days, but I'm possessed by a feeling that can only be captured with a tired sigh. Still, I have to eat, all my food is gone, and unless I turn cannibal there's nothing to eat here (_shudder, gag_), I have to ask him for more food, at the very least.

So I've just been standing here, trying to force myself to confront him, but I don't want to, I really, really don't want to.

I'm about to release my millionth sigh, when I have an odd surge of courage, I thought back to my dream and smiled slightly. Despite not being real it was a good, comforting dream. Remembering the dream makes my feet move forward, a little, I have to wander down a labyrinth to seek a monster, _just like Perseus_, I think, _or was it Theseus?_

The closer I get the more I'm afraid, I try to soothe myself, I know he won't kill me, he might force himself on me again, might. What else do I have to fear form him? Is it because I can't look into his horrible face, especially his horrible eyes?

I can't help thinking back to last time I confronted him. Ohh that memory still makes me sick; I hated him so much for that trauma, although to be fair he didn't actually do anything to harm me during that confrontation. _Maybe it was my fault, ignorance is bliss_. I try to make a joke out of it; _unless its twins he can't surprise me again!_

Oh God, he's just in that room, I feel so craven, I try to resurrect the feeling I receive from the dream but that can't help me. So I try anger-_I want my notebook back damn it_- I push open the heavy wooden door.

The room inside is big and dour. At first glance it's mind bogglingly normal. A big standard office desk, a heavy bookcase, there's even a file cabinet.

A second glance reveals the twisted wrongness of it. Just like the church, somethin so normal and familiar that it should have been comforting was warped and twisted by evil. The heavy desk was carved into minutely detailed writhing figures, the file cabinet looked liked it had claw marks on it and of course human corpses were hung up.

They were **everywhere. **

I thought I could get away from them, that I wouldn't have to see them again once I left the church, but they're just decorations to him. They are every where he is. I might have run away screaming then. I might have lost it then and there but something saved me. I forced myself to look at them the way he does-that is with no empathy. They were merely decorations, I told myself, and they're not real. Indeed they look almost like mannequins. I half convince myself he found old department store mannequins in a dump some where and hung them up. That helps, but it helps more not to look at them.

Horror almost makes me forget my original purpose and I shake my head to clear it. The Creeper is not here and I do not wish to linger. I try to find my notebook. I first check his desk, but it's merely littered with tools and half finished "art projects". Next I try the file cabinet, only to discover the Creeper's filings-of human bones.

"OOokay", I say with a deep intake of breath, "Moving right along." I close the file cabinet and turn to the bookcase. A feeling gives me pause before I start searching for the notebook there. I would have ignored it and continued searching, but a loud _CAW_ makes me jump about a foot in the air, trip over my own bare feet and nearly crash into the human mannequins.

Standing in the doorway and softly sniggering was the Creeper.

­

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A/N: Duhn-dun-duh! To be continued. (It was Theseus)

**Important!**: In a shameless attempt to garner more reviews I'm going to make all you readers a deal. I will send you a free preview picture of the unborn baby inside Maria _if_ you leave me a review that contains 1) **What you like and/or dislike about this fic** and **why** 2) A request for the pic and 3) an email address (to mail it to you). I didn't draw it so I'm not going to take credit for it, but it's so absolutely adorable that I had to use it.

Free pic people. If you love the idea of a baby Creeper than just leave the three things above and it's yours.


	11. Chapter 11

To continue

He was standing in the doorway, apparently trying to sneak up on me. There is a crow on his shoulder, which he is now angrily trying to shoo away. It _CAW_s again, hops off and flaps his way onto the file cabinet, surveying the scene with eager beady eyes.

Ever hear of the phrase "heart leaping out my chest? Well my heart was beyond that, my heart was jumping out of my chest and running across the room. One pinprick and my arteries would have sprayed blood like a fire hose.

I'm uncontrollably pushing my back against the bookcase, instinctively trying to get away. Unfortunately I can't pass through solid material, so when he comes closer I just sink to the floor once again.

Since I can't look into his eyes I don't know what he is thinking but I can see his teeth, is he grinning or snarling? Although I am in full flight or fight mode and I _know_ that he will not kill me that still doesn't stop me from whimpering and moaning, the Creeper snatches me up with his frightening strength and sets me on his table. He bends down and pushes his nose against the crook of my neck. I'm so afraid I'm mortified; I think I can smell my own fear. I can smell him too. I can smell blood on him which does nothing to help me.

The obviousness of my state provokes an obvious comment; he sniffs the air lightly and simply says: "Afraid."

I mumble "yeah" but there's anger in my answer. What the hell did he expect?

Suddenly he grabbed my chin and forced my head up, looking into my face. I don't look back. I look to the floor. I regret that as soon as I see a headless corpse dragged behind him. The crow hops onto its neck, caws again, and then begins picking at it. I guess I know why crows follow him now.

This is all so wrong. Demons aren't supposed to exist, men are supposed to have heads, and crows should be just ugly ordinary birds that don't eat human flesh. _And I shouldn't be here._

Finally he releases me and motions me off the desk. I shakily climb get down as he hauls the corpse up. He looks at my face again and shakes his head as though a fly were bothering him. I interpreted that as: "I just don't understand you."

The Creeper ripped off the headless man's clothes; he took a knife and began severing the poor man's limbs. I must have groaned or made some other noise to indicate my disgust because he suddenly turned to me and smiled as he stuffed an Achilles' tendon into his mouth. By now my fear was ninety percent gone. It was an over reaction. I'm not in any immediate mortal danger, so my mind is regaining control.

But the horror, the repulsion, that won't go away with the fear. I force myself not to see things that as they are, the dead people are just plastic, the Creeper's meal is just meat not an actual person. The only part of mind I can't trick is my olfactory sense. It responds strongly to decaying human flesh, as all human noses do.

It makes me want to throw up, however I control it, it helps that I have nothing in my stomach.

However the gagging catches the horrible beast's attention once again. He turns to me and favors me with an expression that I guess is curiosity, maybe exasperation. To my surprise he also directs a question at me.

"Sick" he asked simply.

I look at him, but not into his eyes. A thousand responses come into my head, Angry: _Yeah watching you do sick things makes me sick, you sick bastard_, Sarcastic_: No I just have a cold, rotting human flesh doesn't bother me at all. _Pleading:_ Yes I'm sick please let me go home!_

But instead I find myself smiling, not a real smile mind you, one of those standard automatic social smiles that you give to people out of politeness. Then I find myself saying something almost reassuring to him. "It's normal, it will pass."

He nods, but then asked "why normal?"

"Why?" I ask back in surprise. "Um, I really don't know, it just happens. But it will-uh- go away." I put my hand over my stomach, "soon hopefully."

He nods again as if my answer made sense.

Mainly to take my eyes off him I look around the room struggling for something. It's so ridiculous, these little social rules I've internalized. Now I'm searching for a topic of conversation. I'm forcing small talk, as if the Creeper and I were waiting for a bus somewhere. Yet my curiosity is sincere, I've promised to confront him, and it won't help to be ignorant. So I look, _not the corpses_, he's trying to shoo the crow away again, I blurt out my first question:

"Why don't you just kill it?"

He turns to look at me again and I stiffen and avert my gaze. He can skewer me with his eyes. I look as the crow, which is starting to pick at the flesh again.

"Killed one once." He rasped out. "Mobbed me."

I laugh at that, I really can't help it. Anyone who's seen _The Birds_ can imagine it. It also struck me as funny that this horrible monster, who can do what he wants to humans with impunity, was humbled a little by crows.

To my surprise he laughs with me. His voice is unlike any human's, it sounds like someone scraped his throat raw with sandpaper. My voice sounds a little shrill with trepidation but with his laughter the anxiety in me wanes a little.

Feeling bolder my eyes move up his face, catch his eyes briefly and then lower mine again. Addressing his nose I say plainly, "I want my notebook back."

He howls with laughter at that one, and my-I can't help it- cheeks redden and I laugh at myself with him. Still laughing he reached casually into his bookcase and pulls it out. I reach to take it but my gaze is drawn to the bookcase. I literally do a double take, for the first time I realize the significance of it. He can read? My mind drifted to the BEATNGU plate…

I'm rudely pulled from my thoughts by a yank on my arm, and I realize he's pulling me towards him. He opens it to the picture I drew of him. (I drew him sleeping, which is what I really wish he would do). I began to panic again, but he merely directs my attention to the surface of the desk.

To my utter shock I can see the picture was replicated in the carving upon the desk, almost perfectly. I had to use my imagination, since I've never seen him sleeping, so I drew him like a cat. His wings and his limbs are tucked in neatly, his eyes are closed. He looks relaxed, almost lazy, but like a cat he still exudes an indescribable power and confidence.

I am stunned, almost flattered, I can see him grinning.

He begins to speak again, then stops himself. He opens the notebook to a blank page picks up my pen and writes: "**GOOD BUT DONT SLEEP LIKE THAT**"

He doesn't hold the pen properly, like how I learned in grade school. He holds it rather awkwardly in his fist like it's a stick. He makes big irregular letters, seemingly with no concept of proper capitalization or punctuation. Then he continues:

"**SLEEP LIKE THIS"**

He dropped the pen, went limp, and closed his eyes. Then he went rigid like a corpse. Then-I could scarcely believe it-his _face _started to _writhe_. I watched in astonishment and wonder as, (I guess it was skin?), reared up then wrapped around his head completely covering his face. He then lay still for several moments to imitate sleep, although it looked almost like death, then he got up. The flap of skin around his face peeled back on its own and returned to its "normal" position. He grinned once again at the look on my face.

I was still surprised, too surprised to be afraid. My mind was reeling in its struggle to come to grips with this extraordinary, unbelievable creature. The only thing I could do was blurt out my astonishment and another question:

"I've never seen that!" I breathed, "_When _do you sleep?"

His grin faded slightly he bent over the notebook and sighed in exasperation. He scribbled a few things then scratched them out, looking unhappy and slightly frustrated. After a while he seemed satisfied he turned to me and motioned me back to the notebook. He drew what looked like pictographs. A crescent evolved into a circle then back into crescent. A small human figure became a bigger one.

Pointing to the first one he wrote "**MOONTH**."

Perplexed. I shook my head.

He pointed again and croaked out, "moon, cycle."

"Moon cy-? Ohhh _month_!" I realized

He nodded then pointed to the second set of figures.

"Human." said The Creeper. Then underneath the smallest figure he wrote. "**BABY**" underneath the biggest one he wrote "**ADULT**"

He turned to me again and said simply, "Eat, then sleep."

I didn't get it. "…Ummm, you lost me." I said, feeling stupid.

He pointed to the moon cycle once again, "Eat.", then to the human figure, "Sleep."

It was beginning to dawn on me, albeit slowly. He was trying to convey a sense of time. "So you're saying," I struggled to comprehend, "you sleep in the time it takes a human to grow up fully. Then you're awake for only a month?!"

He grinned and tilted his head back and forth, as if to say, "You're basically right."

My mind lurched again. He got to "eat" for one month out of every, what? Generation? He slept for years? To me it sounded like a horrible life. I couldn't help but ask another question, I shot him a sideways look. "What the hell _are_ you?" He blinked and wrote: "**I EAT HUMANS**."

Before I have time to digest this non-sequitur something hits me like a truck.

"Hey! Wait, you've been awake for waaaay longer than a month. What gives? Are you lying to me?!" I get a little tense. I hate being lied to.

He glares at me in annoyance as he pauses once again in his feeding. I began to feel anxious, but a hint of a smile appears. He takes a hand and traces it from in-between my breasts down to the juncture between my thighs, while licking his lips.

"Child" he drawls out again. He gives me a wink and leer.

I straighten my spine and suck in a lot of air through my nose to steady myself. He didn't need to elaborate. So it was because of the "child" he was able break his own cycle? I remembered faintly he was said to sleep for many years.

Again I'm pulled from my musings. My body shivers and my knees buckle, and I look down and realize what he's doing

"STOP!" I cry out. And jump back, his hand never left. He sniggers again but-_thank God-_ returns to his meal.

_I have to get outta here. _Quick as humanly possible I move to retrieve the notebook and try to leave the room. But of course humanly possible isn't that fast. He doesn't turn; he doesn't even turn his head but he still grabs me with the speed and accuracy of a striking snake. I instantly start struggling to get away.

"Stay." He orders around mouthfuls of kidney. _Like I have a damned choice_, I think with anger and fright, and continue to struggle. He's still eating the corpse, but he's nearly done. Ribs poke out brokenly and almost all the organs are gone. The torso is basically a shell now. I can see spine, through the stomach.

When he's done he turns to me, he uses both of his bloody hands, holding me still. He starts smelling me. I know what will happen next, _I fucking know what will happen next! _I began to squirm out of panic, it's totally useless. His teeth start to graze across my throat; I can smell blood on them.

What I say, what I do next is totally unplanned. It almost bursts out at random:

"I'm hungry!" I cry.

The Creeper stops, and stares at me. It's his turn to look bewildered. I decide to take advantage of it. "Yeah I'm starving. I have no more food."

He looks less bemused, I go on: "I haven't eaten in uh-a few days. And I threw most of that up." He begins to look somewhat convinced. "I'll get so sick if I don't eat." I try to look faint with hunger, which isn't hard since I'm almost fainting with terror. However I know what cinches it. I look at him directly, even into his eyes, and say: "If I starve, _he_ starves."

He is silent in thought. I don't look into his eyes; I concentrate on looking weak from hunger again. He understands though. Reluctantly he sets me down.

Something in his movements makes me think he's irritated. There's something snappish in the way he puts on his coat and hat. He quickly leaves; I just look at the floor. He pauses in the doorway then slams it shut. When I try to open it, it's locked.

Sighing and trying not to collapse I walk shakily back in. I avoid looking at the walls. I don't sit on his desk, that man's hollowed out corpse is still there. Then I remember the bookcase. Instantly curiosity overcomes me. _What on earth would a monster read?_

There is a messy stack of ancient newspapers. Some are almost fifty years old. One headline catches my eye. "**BUS ACCIDENT STILL UNDER INVESTIGATION**" A picture of a warped looking school bus lying on its side accompanied it. I fold it back and set it down. I look at the books. There is a huge red book. I open it and find a dictionary; it looked very worn, like someone had looked through it a lot. There are some magazines. A lot of _Popular Mechanics,_ a few faded yellow _National Geographic's_, arts and crafts magazines about carpentry or whatever, and one very out of place homemaker-style magazine. I shake my head, mystified, and pick up the next one.

It's not a magazine, but a catalogue." COLD STEEL KNIVES", subtitled "QUALITY PERFORMANCE" reads the cover. _I'm guessing they made knives, _I think. But I look inside and I also see swords, axes, even spears. Accompanying pictures of their merchandise were pictures of demonstrations. Smiling men hacked ruthlessly into slabs of meat and pieces of wood. I could almost imagine him poring relentlessly over it. I put it back quietly.

The books were mostly trash. His collection seems almost random. They weren't in great physical shape either. Pages torn, spines bent, waterlogged and scribbled on. Whether this was abuse from the monster or from their previous owners I didn't know. It seemed these were simply whatever he could find, thrown out, lost, or taken from his victims. However there was a Gideon Bible, which I thought was ironic, a big book of classical mythology, a slightly blood stained book on human anatomy (which I did not touch), Desmond Morris's_ The Naked Ape_, and _How to Draw the Human Figure _by José María Parramón. I was astonished, naturally expecting horror and slasher shit but I did find "_The Silence of the Lambs_" by Thomas Harris, and it didn't look like it had never been touched. _I guess that's why he knows what Chianti is,_ I thought with a humorless laugh.

I released the air in my lungs and sank slowly to the floor, clutching my notebook. I'm trying not to freak out again. _They're just mannequins, they're not real. _I told myself. To avoid looking at them, and to avoid thinking about him coming back, I looked back into the bookcase.

To my surprise I saw I had overlooked one book. In the lowest shelf, in the farthest corner is a thin book, almost completely covered in dust. I reached for it and wiped it off. This was the oddest book yet. It was bright and happy, clearly designed for children. I wiped more dust off of it and found the title: _**MY FIRST READER.**_ It was surreal, but it made perfect sense somehow. It looked almost exactly like the book I used in first grade, except it was far older. _He taught himself to read_.

I opened the book curiously. Inside was the alphabet accompanied by pictures of things starting with the letter they were representing. Then there were simple instructions on how to write simple words accompanied by appropriate pictures. It looked like he had tried to write in it himself. I could see the beginnings of crude awkwardly formed letters. They were either his or the unfortunate child who owned it. Not wishing to think about it I gently slid _**MY FIRST READER**_ back into the bookcase.

I sighed again, and then yawned. Although I really didn't do much today I felt drained. Just being with the Creeper seemed to rob me of my energy. I smiled slightly thinking of how I got rid of him, but he would come back eventually, and I wouldn't know what to do then. Too avoid looking at the mannequins I closed my eyes.

_I wonder why he believed me?_

_I was wondering the very same thing, María._

I jerk physically and mentally. My eyes flutter. Then I sink back into unconsciousness. I realize I was dreaming.

Dream

_This is the most lucid dream I've ever had._ Yet I still did not wake. I had asked myself a question, and someone had answered back.

I hear a chuckle and realized I was dreaming the same dream again.

_It's you. _I was so happy to see him again. Even if he wasn't real.

_Hey! Who says I'm not real?_ He demanded with mock anger. I felt a cold sweat start on my back. _He could read minds_…

_If you don't want me to read your mind, then don't think so damn loud. _He admonished. Then laughed again good naturedly and hugged me, like he was an old friend.

I felt so many strange emotions. I was happy to be with him, I was anxious because I was beginning to doubt he was just a dream, I felt a lump of tears in my throat, but if these tears were from happiness or sadness I couldn't tell. Everything was so confusing in dreams.

_Hey!_ He said again. I still couldn't see him clearly. I simply got flashes or impressions of him. _Hey you did great today. You were very brave. I could __never__ do what you did._

Brave? Me? I thought incredulously. A brave person would have fought and won, or at least tried. They would have helped his victims or fought back in defiance of his plan. Or wouldn't shy away from killing themselves. They wouldn't have sat there sniveling.

Then, without actually using words or facial expressions (because I couldn't see his face) the boy conveyed a sense of disapproval. I felt shame. Finally he said:_ You tricked him._

_Not really, _I replied_, I wasn't exactly lying about being hungry. _For some reason the boy thought this was hilarious. I could feel his laughter through out my mind. _Why did he buy it though?_ I asked. _I mean that was probably the stupidest thing I could have ever come up with, but it worked._

_I think if he understands anything he understands hunger._ The boy abruptly stopped laughing, as if the subject became to grave too laugh about. _And you knew how to manipulate him, he's worried about-you know._

I nodded; I had made him think about the well-being of the "child".

Then I felt something I had been holding back ever since I learned of the Creepers cycle and my help in breaking it: guilt. It was my fault he was awake. It was my fault people were dead.

Before I could cry, or feel self pity, the dream person told me, plainly. _It's not your fault._

_It's __his__ fault_. He hissed. I felt anger and distress coming from him. And I knew very logically that it was true, but I still hid my twinge of blame at the thought that I had still got myself into this position, but I did not elaborate on it. Finally I asked him _who are you?_

He laughed again, _well you sorta already know me._ I shook my head and tried to focus myself on him, but I just couldn't get a clear impression of him. He seemed out of sight, or too blurry or too bright to look at. I wondered.

_Are you, me?_ I asked him. Maybe I had lost it; maybe I was talking to myself, or a part of my subconscious.

_Well I am a __part __of you, but no I'm not you._ Sensing my frustration he apologized: _sorry for sounding like a fortune cookie, but you have to help your self understand. It sucks but you have to do this on your own. I can only help._

I squinted trying to get a visual picture of him but it was impossible, either he or the dream weren't letting me. _I can't see you_, I complained, _show yourself to me._

The boy conveyed a "no" again and said: _I'm not preventing you, you're preventing yourself._

_What? Why?_

_Because you're afraid._

I felt my confusion and resentment grow. _I am not afraid_.

_Yes you are, you can't look at me, because if you do you'll see something awful. Something you're trying not to see._

Now I do feel anxious, a little, what is he talking about?

_I really want to see._ So with a massive effort I focus everything on him. It's so hard, it takes EVERYTHING I have to focus.

_You can't see me because you don't want to see me._

_You __are__ sounding like a fortune cookie _I snapped. But I could feel something inside of my mind, inside the whole dream. It was shuddering with resistance. _Don't look, don't look_ it was crying.

_Even if I see something terrible, even if I see the worst thing in the world I will look._

And for a moment I can see him more clearly. Just impressions though. I think I see bright yellow. I see brown hair. When I try to look into his eyes, the dream world blurs and I awake.

The Creeper has just walked into the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: I don't think crows would mob something the size of a human. I have seen crows circle menacingly over a man (my father) after he picked up a fledgling. And I have seen them mob a cat who killed one of their own. This is just my guess as to why the Creeper tolerated them. Fun facts: a flock of crows is called a murder.

Also I realize that in the novel version of _Silence of the Lambs,_ Lecter says "a big Amarone" not "a nice Chianti." But the movie quote is more recognizable so I used that.

Nothing serious yet but next chapter... I see you shiver in anticip-

_  
-PATION_ :-)


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: **Warnings!** Sex. Violence. Sexual Violence. Violent sex. And a flashback inexplicably written in third person. Reviewers will be rewarded. How? redplanetes has generously drawn and donated a picture of the Creeper sleeping, the same picture Maria drew, along with the carving the Creeper made of it. If you review they're yours. (Remember to request it and leave an email address)

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**The woman claimed she was hungry.**

**Well of course she was hungry. She hasn't eaten, and what little she has eaten she's thrown up. She claims its "normal", but I don't want the unborn ones to starve.**

**But that doesn't make this any less annoying.**

**I am driving down the road humans' call "9". I see no cars, let alone anything that remotely resembles human food. Its still dark, most humans would probably be sleeping or at least inside their houses by now. **

**When I grabbed her I could smell her fear, and underneath that, her arousal. This mixed together along with subtle scent of the woman herself was nearly disorientating. If I was starving it would have prompted me to eat her, but since I was well-fed I did not.**

**Then she cried out, she sounded like a baby animal, whimpering and begging its caretaker for food. She did look hungry, and I can hear her stomach churning endlessly. I definitely had doubts, I'm not stupid, I know she is afraid of me, but the child did come first. No matter what.**

**So now I'm driving along this road seemingly empty of humans, looking for something I'm not even sure looks like. The other human's food came in a brown bag, but I saw nothing remotely resembling that. Why can't she just eat what I give her? Every time I try she wails and pushes the delicious meat away from her face. So I stopped trying. However she still needs to eat…**

**There, I see a car. It's small and red, a woman is driving it, a brood of children are in the back. I can see it clearly. I almost forget myself, I almost think I'm hunting but then I remind myself I'm not, the horn stays quiet, I don't try to scare them.**

**The third time I run into the car it rolls over and topples off the side of the road. Easy. They're all unconscious or dead. I smell the woman, who is alive but smells uninteresting. I smell her children and take the middle one. He has a good heart. I search the car but all I find is trash. No food.**

**Disappointed I carry his corpse back to my truck. A human would probably get upset with me for taking a child, they always seem upset about that, but it's probably more practical. If I killed the mother all the children would probably die, since human children can't take care of themselves, but now I killed only one child. The other children will grow and produce potential meals now themselves.**

**I have prey, but I still do not have human food. Then I realize I had driven in a field. Tall plants rustle around me. They are so ubiquitous I hardly notice them anymore, but they must be human food, why else would humans cultivate them so diligently? Or set up little torture idols in it? I pick a few stalks; pull them up by the roots. I don't know how much she needs so I pull up many.**

**With my food and hers safely in the back I drive home.**

I awoke quickly when he walked in. I pondered the incredible dream briefly, but he was right in front of me now. I don't dare look up. He dumps something practically on top of me. Startled, I realize this must be the "food". I see he's gotten me-

"Corn?"

I look up, I could see a little of his face and I see him grin. I also see-

"Oh no", I scowl at him. There's a little kid in his hand. He's dead. He looks unabashed as usual. I focus unhappily on the corn. Raw corn is edible, if it's ripe enough. I open the sheathe, it's ripe.

Of course I don't feel like eating, that poor kid. _Don't yell at him, don't cry. _I instruct myself. I don't want to eat, but I just told him I was hungry. _My fault_ Tears start to burn my eyes. I suppress it. I can smell soil and chemicals.

"I need to wash this." I calmly explain to him. "I can't eat dirt and pesticides." He merely nods and starts butchering the boy. I can't get out of that room fast enough.

I feel jubilant; I've escaped him again, but that poor kid. _Don't think about him._

I pull out some emergency water, open it and began washing some of the corn. I don't feel hungry but I know my stomach is empty. So when I've washed it thoroughly I bite into it.

It doesn't taste too bad. I start imagining it boiled properly, with butter, and salt. Oh and chili powder.

_Mmmm_, that wakes up my stomach. I wash and eat two more.

Next day

I've managed to avoid him all day. It meant getting myself lost in this incredibly dark creepy building, but it's worth it. It's more than worth it.

This place is a wreck. I can't imagine what the hell it's for. It just seems designed to be a monsters lair. Wandering through it is incredibly unnerving. I always expect to crash into him unexpectedly or at least bump into more corpses.

_Yeah Maria, this scary-ass demon, who eats brains for breakfast, has nothing better to do then spend his time planning to jump out and scare you. _

_If he popped out and said 'boo' you would be scared. Admit it. _

_Well yeah he's more than a little frightening_

"Shut up" I tell myself. I feel like I have that multiple personality thing. There's the Maria I was before, and the Maria I am now. They both hate each other, but if I kick them out who do I have left?

Still I wonder what he is doing. I hope he's not looking for me. If he wanted to find me, to hunt me down, I don't have a chance. I walk faster and hike up a set of concrete stairs that no sane person would climb. They're big but crumbling; they hold my weight well enough. I find my way up to the second floor. It's less oppressively gloomy, but only because there is less roof between me and the sun.

_Well this was a shit idea _I think. The whole ceiling looks like it's gonna fall in. It dripping everywhere, I've nearly slipped in several rust colored puddles. It's still better than what is behind me.

One of the walls looked like it had a window, but the glass is long gone, and instead of a neat square hole there is just a crumbling wreck. I peer out cautiously, then draw back in sudden vertigo. I could very easily fall-or jump out. I close my eyes and consider, then dismiss it. I peer out again. I'm very high up; I can see the surrounding land to highway nine, and beyond that. I can see more farmland.

I lower my eyes and I see the truck, parked close to the building. Then I catch sight of him suddenly. He swoops past my line of vision, and out of it again, flying low to the ground. What the hell is he doing? I think. Is he 'hunting' again? I see him swoop back, and I withdraw my face from the window. Then peer out again in curiosity. He has a long wicked looking hand scythe; it looks like something Father Time would use, or more appropriately the Grim Reaper.

God he looks horrible. He resembles the famous _Le Petit Journal_ painting of Death reaping cholera victims, except he's not killing humans, he's cutting grass. _A little gardening?_ I peer out a little more. The grass is a long yellowish brown, like hay. Ubiquitous stuff in areas were there are too few people to bother cutting it. Why would he want it? He doesn't eat it. Does he?

_Maybe it's for me?_ Maybe, He did feed me raw corn, and he probably looks at us they way we look at cows. I laugh at that image even as I am disturbed by it. Somehow I don't think its for me, but what else would he use it for? I'm curious, but not curious enough to go down and ask him. I barely got away last time.

_Yeah and you killed a kid to do it._

I wince and close my eyes. I still feel bad, but I didn't kill him. He did. I don't examine the rest of my conscience though.

I see his shadow swoop down again. He's gathered all the hay he could and is walking inside the building. I gaze out more.

If I fell out, if I died, what is in inside of me would die. It would take longer but it would die, slowly, from lack of oxygen. He'd still awake and kill, probably for eternity, but I might be able to fight him now. I look at the ground again; I can see myself down there, broken and dead or dying. Would it hurt terribly? Would there be one instant of unbearable pain then oblivion? Could I do it?

After a while I pull back.

_Coward._

_Shut up._

He comes swiftly out of the building and takes flight again. I duck down and squat on the wet floor to avoid notice. It's more difficult, my center of gravity seems to have changed. My stomach _is_ bigger.

I look out the window, hoping he doesn't fly up high enough to see me. I can stay up here for a while but not forever. Maybe I should try running again. I remember being caught and shiver. From my position I'm only able to see endless gray sky. The clouds are so heavy it almost feels like night already. Then I realize I could smell moisture in the air. It's going to rain.

_When was it?_ I thought idly. The last time it rained-

I realized I can remember the last time it rained. I couldn't before. I forgot most of it.

I shake my head. How could I? The details come flooding back. I remember I could smell the rain.

A night to remember

_Maria could smell the rain _

_"Shut the window please, Maria." came the soft grandmotherly voice. Maria basked in her contentment, but hurried to obey. As she reached the window she saw a flash of light, and wasn't surprised to hear the deep roll of thunder a few seconds afterwards as she sat on her overstuffed arm chair. _

_She shivered, slightly, almost too slightly to notice. Maria wasn't afraid of thunder, she hadn't been since she was five, but although she loved the rain, lightening still made her wary. It was ominous, its noise reminded her of artillery shells and its raw power was nothing to laugh at. __  
__"Much like him", she thought. Except HE didn't just fill Maria with unease, just his memory made her want to scream and tear off her skin. She shivered again, to cover her unease she filled her eyes with Elsa Daniels. _

_"Gonna be a big storm tonight huh?" She asked, stabbing at the silence. _

_Elsa turned a page of her book absentmindedly, "Hmmm, no I don't think so, it will pass us over us, but the radio said it would move south." _

_Maria merely nodded silently at that. _

_Over the past few weeks Elsa had practically adopted Maria, she took her everywhere, which the girl accepted by helping Elsa in every way she could. She was given food, whatever clothes didn't fit Elsa anymore, (the rest was supplemented by whatever was in Elsa's church's donation box) and more importantly a sense of stability. _

_It was a few weeks after she arrived and things were getting slightly better. The pain between her legs was long gone, she could look at herself in the mirror without crying, and after multiple showers she no longer smelled of him. Though there were still the nightmares.__  
These were the most vivid nightmares she ever had. She's wake up literally screaming and tearing at her hair. Or she'd awake but remain paralyzed, an incredible weight pressed upon her accompanied by a feeling of pure evil. She tried to scream, thinking the Creeper was on her, but she could not. They weren't real, just night terrors, but she still awoke in the morning sobbing, terrified, and struggling not to throw up._

_  
__She had gone, with Elsa silently offering support, to the police, but when the time had come, when she had a captive audience, Maria lied her ass off. Even now she regretted it, but a bigger part of her was relieved, she knew they would never believe her. _

_Maria claimed she had been car jacked, then beaten and dumped in front of Elsa's house. Elsa looked up sharply when she neglected to mention she had been found naked, but didn't say anything. Maria thanked her silently. The rest of it was standard and bland. He was white, of medium height, dark hair, sunglasses, hood pulled over his head. Maria hadn't realized till later that she had been unconsciously describing the Unabomber. _

_Now her life was warm and very comfortable. She quickly had settled into the lovely monotony of the life of Elsa Daniels. She had hoped her car and possessions might be found and recovered, she had abandoned it right outside the church in full view of the highway. But the police bobbed apologetically and said they'd continue running its plates and looking. _

_Disappointed she had turned back to Elsa and her life and planned her escape. _

_Escape, the word crawled up her throat like bile. Despite everything, despite the comfort of the house and the maternal fussing of Elsa and the new found appreciation for the beauty of the countryside, it all boiled back down to Him. Everything here was his, she was his, the land was his, everything reeked of Him. She had to get out of here. _

_And as she sat on her borrowed bed in her borrowed clothes listening to disturbing reports of murder and kidnapping over the radio Maria began to feel a sense of horrible sloth, a listlessness settled over her. She tried to rationalize it as waiting for stuff, but she knew she should leave as fast as she could. As much as she loved Elsa a weight began pressing down upon her, a time limit ticked inexplicably in her head, one that had nothing to do with the start of the school term. _

_Still as she struggled to free herself from this, a voice told her not to bother. She recalled her first thought when she was chained, "she would never leave." Nonetheless she braved the phone call to her father and somehow wheedled enough money for a bus ticket to be wired. Not to home because she just couldn't go back there, but on to her new found college independence, like nothing ever happened. _

_So she would bid farewell to Elsa and march bravely to the bus terminal, it would all be behind her. It didn't happen._

_As she lay on the huge spongy bed-a bed that didn't belong to her- she could hear the soft pitter-patter of rain. It was comforting and soothing, almost hypnotic, but she could not sleep. She had a tight feeling in her throat. She felt exhausted but her adrenaline started to flow._

"_Go to sleep" she moaned to herself. She tried to force it by shutting her eyes tightly. After what seemed like hours she finally felt like she might start to drift off. She hoped she didn't have another nightmare._

_She rolled over slightly, into a better position. She still wasn't asleep, but she could feel sleep just beginning to take hold. She soothed herself by saying she would leave soon. Her muscles relaxed._

_BAM! Her eyes snapped open. __That's not thunder__, she thought._

_She sat up quickly. Of course the first thought that popped into her head was obvious. Her mind began panicking. Her throat constricted, but she also tried to reason with herself: __It's done, it's over, it's not what you think!__ She pressed herself into the soft foamy mattress and resisted the childish urge to pull the comforter over her head._

_Slowly, shakily, she climbed out of bed. Her old childhood fear of being grabbed by the creature under the bed briefly resurfaced before being dismissed. Still trembling she moved to turn the light on. It would make her feel better._

_A shadow moved over the window._

_Clutching the tiny ball-and-chain switch tightly, she held still as petrified wood, and stared anxiously at the window. When she stared for what seemed for hours, with an intensity that should have broken the glass, and nothing happened. She flicked on the light._

_Instantly warm relief flooded her as the light flooded the room. She could see nothing except the rain gently drumming a percussion on the windowpane. Although she was much less scared now she still felt uneasy. Her greatest fear in the world was him, but she thought he would not come back. Why would he? He had no use for her, he had released her. Still, __I should close the curtains._

_She took a step with a leg stiffened by fear. Almost at the same moment HE appeared._

_She paused, as still as a doe when it catches the scent of a cougar, Fear paralyzing her brain. He was grinning, leering at her. She could only see his head, shoulders and part of his chest through the small window. But that was more than enough, it could only be him._

_His coat and hat were on, with rain dripping slightly off of it. His face, (__Oh God__,) was twitching, sniffing the air passionately. She could see his breath fog the widow. He was pushing against it. Seemingly rubbing his body against the wall separating them as he smelled the woman in the room._

_Then he did something that broke her paralysis. He simply raised his right hand and bent his fingers into a simple gesture. Maria knew that gesture, everybody did, it meant "__**come here**__"._

_She did nothing but stare for a moment, eyes huge, as if hypnotized, before the reality of the situation crashed down on her. She took one step back, then another, then fled the room._

"_ELSA!" she screamed as she ran toward the hall to her room, "ELSA!" She burst into her room, not bothering with the light. She pounced on the sleeping figure and shook her awake. "WakeupwakeupohGodpleasewakeup!" Maria screamed incoherently as Elsa turned over slightly and made an annoyed, soft sound of someone not fully awake._

_She shook her even harder. "Please wake!" she shrieked__hysterically_. _She couldn't leave Elsa, not after everything she had done for her; she didn't want her to be eaten. "He's here, he's here!" Maria insisted._

_Elsa, semi-awake and exasperated countered calmly, "It was just a nightmare, dear, go b-"_

"_NO! He's here! I saw him through the window. Please Elsa-"_

_Elsa Daniels was naturally kind-hearted but practical. She had never heard of the Creeper, and she wouldn't have believed it anyway. She assumed Maria was the victim of some terrible crime, more than she admitted too due to her initial condition and subsequent hyper vigilance, but she highly doubted her attacker was here. She probably just had a vivid nightmare. Not surprising given what she had heard the last few nights._

_She turned over planning to tell the hysterical girl off. She cared for Maria, she was normally such a sweet considerate young woman, but she simply couldn't act like this. However something jolted her fully awake before she could even get the words out._

_Her window smashed open. Maria screamed in terror. Elsa thought it was tree branch until she saw the thing moving around, __alive, it's a fist, __she realized in shock. With strength Elsa didn't think__the small woman could have possibly possessed, Maria yanked her up fully from her bed and shoved her out into the hallway. Then into the kitchen._

_Elsa automatically picked up the phone, it was dead. _

"_Of course." She muttered, an odd thumping noise came from the roof._

_She stole a glance at Maria, her eyes were wide, they almost looked deranged, and she reminded Elsa of a frightened rabbit. Maria seemed unusually small and fragile. She was eyeing the roof in fear._

"_We need to get out of here, __**now**__." She said in a hoarse whisper._

_Elsa felt her stomach drop. Something was going on here, something she didn't understand, but Maria seemed to. She had been right, but Elsa knew they didn't have time for apologies. She slipped an arm around the girls shoulder. "What do you think we should do?"_

_For a moment Maria looked blank, and Elsa feared she would swoon or something, but then she began instructions in a rapid fire, almost military-esque fashion that shocked the older woman._

"_We keep the lights off, move as quickly and quietly as we can to the garage, get inside, and then get into your car." Maria hissed rapidly, and tugged on her hand towards the garage._

_Then the front door exploded._

_Both women screamed in shock and fear then back pedaled to the edge of the kitchen, the door was inside, hanging slightly off one hinge, when he stepped in._

_The Creeper had decided that now was the time to get what he was already affectionately referring to as "his human." The deadline had passed, and he knew it was thanks to her. What he was most worried about was how other humans would treat her. Humans sometimes tamed intelligent birds they called jackdaws and kept them as pets. When the tame jackdaws tried to rejoin their wild companions they were viciously rejected, he had seen this happen._

_He had also seen humans be viciously rejected from their society. Imprisoned or killed or exiled. He worried how a "tame" human would be treated by "wild" ones. To his relief he saw that she had been re-accepted, she was wearing clothes and trailing behind an older woman whom he didn't find appetizing. He decided to leave her alone for a few days. He would collect her later._

_When the rains came he knew it was time, he disliked rain, it washed away smells and made the world of scent "blurry." If he didn't get her now he might not be able to track her scent as he had before. However she didn't come to him willingly. He was able to track her by sound to the other room. She was yelling, when he broke the window and he could smell fear._

_He closed his eyes and focused his sensitive ears towards the house. He can hear sounds, clumsy attempts to be quiet, he made a decision. He __could__ squeeze through the window but he simply did not feel like it. Instead he jumped to the roof of the house, sauntered casually across it, and jumped off near the front door._

_Grabbing the door jam he reared up, swung his legs back, and then shoved them forward, converting the door into matchwood instantly. He heard both women scream. It was exciting, almost like a hunt, except he only wanted the younger woman, and she wouldn't be eaten, well, not in the traditional sense._

_Elsa saw a man step over the tattered remains of her door into her house, stooping slightly to avoid knocking his hat off. He wore a Stetson hat and a trench coat; his whole body seemed cloaked in shadow. She heard Maria to her right moaning and making a choking noise._

_The man walked slowly, almost nonchalantly towards the kitchen, Maria and Elsa huddled instinctively together, and he strolled closer and closer then stopped, and… flipped on the kitchen light._

_Blinking in reflex and surprise, Elsa cringed then took a good look at her intruder._

_Her physical reaction was predictable enough; she felt her insides go watery as he grinned at her, amused by a reaction he had seen incalculable times. Elsa merely gaped in stupefied horror for a minute then tore her eyes away from the monster to look at Maria. The girl she was holding was looking down. Her long hair covered her face like a curtain she was trying to hide behind. However she noted the girl did not scream or panic, n or stare in shock. __She knows him, -it__ Elsa realized._

_Making a quick decision Elsa acted. Shoving Maria out of the kitchen and so hard she nearly fell over, Elsa began yelling instructions. She was to run to the back of the house. Maria quickly nodded and obeyed._

_Elsa had no clue how strong he was. She was totally taken by surprise._

_Maria started to run but a noise made her look back. To her horror she saw Elsa running __towards __the monster. "No!" she pleaded, stopped and turned around. The Creeper didn't exactly hit her. He grabbed her face and shoved her. Hard._

_All she could do was watch as her friend flew across the small kitchen come to a crashing halt. There was one horrible moment of silence._

"_ELSA!" Maria screamed and, for once forgetting the monster, she sprinted towards her injured friend. _

_Maria could see broken bones and bruises and blood. Her stomach twisted, __please, please don't be dead,__ she begged. She was planning to rush to her, to stop her bleeding and see what she could do-if anything._

_Of course she never got even close. The next thing Maria remembered was the sensation of being very small. A vague childhood memory came to her, she was a toddler; someone much bigger was picking her up from behind, the kitchen tiles zoomed away from her. She couldn't fight against that strength._

_She realized it was the Creeper; he slung her over one of his shoulders and held her still with both hands, as if she was an invaluable, but inanimate object. She felt a stab of resentment underneath her fear. She must have screamed, or screamed for Elsa, but she had no memory of that._

_She couldn't actually remember leaving the house or being flown away or being shoved, fighting like a wildcat, back into the church. Upon reflection Maria figured she was hysterical, or something. If she racked her brains she could find the image of hands, (they didn't seem like hers,) on his face. He was yelling in irritation as the hands dug their long nails into the vulnerable skin of his face, trying desperately to scratch out his eyes._

_The other memory was more graphic. She could see it in third person, like she was outside her body. All she had was the image of the demon. He was on her, snarling and licking her face while he rammed himself into her with the energy of a rabid animal. She remembered dimly the sensation of not being able to move her hands._

_Maria had awoke dizzy and confused long after that. She was so bewildered that the corpses or the Creeper simply didn't register. The only coherent thought was: __were am I__? Slowly it sank in, the first sensation was cold-her clothes had been ripped off. Then she saw her bags, those familiar things jarred her memory. She began to realize her surroundings looked horridly recognizable. She understood she was in a place she only thought she'd see in her nightmares. She crawled off that awful table and huddled in the corner with her stuff, claiming the small unobtrusive corner as "hers." She remembered putting on clothes; she remembered the Creeper looming over her, sniffing her. She remembered her fear, crying, and sudden uncontrollable nausea._

_In her despair this had become her whole world. As horrible as it was for a while she couldn't remember who she was, or her initial trauma. If you asked her where she came from or what her name was she would have drawn a blank. It came back, eventually, but it was like a false awakening into a deeper nightmare. That's when she began thinking coherently and recording her thoughts, even if they were all initially concerning fear and horror and of their source-HIM._

_The rest is history_

Later  
There was no thunder this time. When it was ready, the sky simply opened up and rain poured down. Normally I might have liked it but two things bothered me. One was remembering some of the forgotten details of that night, and what that meant for the future, and two it was soaking me.

This building couldn't even stay dry when it was sunny, now there might as well not have been a ceiling above my head.

"Shit!" I curse under my breath as I retreat down the stairs. I thought I could stay and manage but I just can't. The water is so cold it should be hail. I nearly slip down the stairs but I manage to keep my balance. I move cautiously, one step at a time. It would hurt like hell to fall down these stairs. It could have easily caused breakage or internal rupturing.

It was even worse at the bottom. All my stuff, my bags, what clothes were out, my "bed". All of it soaked or starting to soak in what looks like the beginnings of a swamp. Water no longer dripped, it poured. It ran down the walls and rusted pipes, flooding nearly everything.

"Shit!" I cursed again and began moving my duffel bag, water pouring from it, soaking the bottom half. My backpack fared little better. I grab my smaller purse-bag, and other miscellaneous things. I move them to much drier area.

Even while I'm moving I can see it's futile. The water is dripping everywhere. If I move it to one spot the water will just rise up to swamp it too. My hair is dripping wet; the water is up to my ankles.

_How can he live here?_ I think. It's a horrible place without rain, but now it's simply impossible. _How the hell does he keep his stuff dry?_ That's when I realize. He "lives" in the only part of the building I haven't see dripping.

His "office"

I bite my lower lip and consider my possibilities. I don't think he'd get angry if I moved my stuff there, and I don't want my stuff to get ruined. I release my lower lip, I'll do it, I just won't linger.

I grab the duffel bag, the heaviest and sling my back pack over my shoulder. I move as fast as I can down the hall to the "office". Everything looks the same except he's stacked mounds of hay almost everywhere. It's so bizarre that I actually pause and stare. Why does he do these things? I shake my head and put my things in a discreet corner. Everything is still dry here, that's how he can tolerate it.

Once again he's not here, and I can't dawdle. I run back to my "room", and grab another handful of stuff; I think I can see a stalk of corn floating by. I do this twice more, and he still hasn't returned. Every time I move the stuff I grow more uneasy.

I'm still in the "office". He's still not here. I think I've finished, I should leave, something is churning in my stomach. I have a sudden vision of the corpses coming alive, screaming at me. In horror I back slowly away.

_Run!_ The boy's voice whispers.

I turn and run out of that room as faster as the wet floors will allow. I run back through the hallway, I run passed my flooded "room." I have no where to go. Where am I going to sleep tonight?

I stop, panting, I feel hot despite the cold water on me. My cheeks are burning as I gulp down air. I'm really questioning my sanity now.

That music isn't helping. Where the hell is it coming from? I start to think I'm hallucinating again when I see its source. The Creeper is coming in from the outside another bundle of hay under his arm, the scythe in his other. I hide behind a tangle of pipes and valves, desperately hoping to disappear. _Yeah right_. Even if couldn't see me he could smell me. Still, I instinctively become quiet and motionless.

He's whistling. _Whistling_, for Christsakes! The tune seems oddly familiar but I can't pinpoint it. I just wrap my arms around myself, and push myself into the shadows.

He whistles seemingly out of absent-minded happiness as he gathers the last of the grass. He then disappears into his "office" the music growing fainter.

I take another deep breath, listening to the faint whistling. I know I should leave, but I literally have no place to go. He might have left the door open. I focus on where I think the entrance is, could I run away? Very carefully I peer around my forest of rusted pipes. I squint looking for the exit, I think I can move quickly if-

Then I hear the old Victrola, I quickly duck back to my dark hiding place, begging, _praying,_ not to be seen. I hold still again. He gets closer the music becomes louder. To get my mind off of things, and to stop my shivering, I try to focus on the music.

It sounds very familiar, I'm sure I've heard it before, but where? I can feel my mind grope towards recognition. I focus on his song as I stare at a drop of water continuously dripping down. That's when it hits me: It's the same song he was whistling, "_Singin' in the Rain". _Another old classic, this guy needs to seriously consider updating his collection, but its appropriate enough I guess.

I lift my eyes when I feel a shadow moving across me, and I meet his horrible brown ones through the pipes. I stifle a intake of breath and push myself deeper into the shadows. The image I have in my mind is of an animal, i's camaflouge helping it blend in with the forest of trees. I'm in a forest of pipes.

_How the hell will that help?!_ I think hysterically. I can't run from him I can't hide from him. I can't do a damned thing. I hear him sniffing softly, and then he starts to whistle again._I'm singin' in the rain, I'm sing-in' in the rain, _he's whistling along with the song, but the notes of his whistle are chilling. Every one sends a stab of ice down my spine. He gets getting closer I can hear it, I can't see well, but neither can he. Catching my lower lip in anxiety I make a quick decision. Moving quietly and carefully as I can through the rainwater I flit silently to another shadow somewhere in this forest of rusted pipes. To avoid hitting myself my hands stretch blindly ahead of me, feeling my way around.

_What a glorious feelin', I'm happy again, I'm laughing at clouds _He's somewhere behind me from the sound of it. I gasp and stifle the noise again, now I'm definitely lost, it's dark and wet but I can still feel and hear. Making sure to stay ahead of him and not slam into anything, I keep moving. I can feel the rust scrape across my fingertips.

_And I'm ready for love; Let the stormy clouds chase__everyone from the place _It's totally hopeless. The thing I want to do most is break down and cry, but I refuse. I keep pressing forward. I can see a vague light up ahead. His whistling fades. I become excited, even hopeful, so moving through thinning pipes and valves and hunks of rusted metal, stepping through dirty rainwater, hoping I won't need a tetanus shot afterwards, I push out of the forest of pipes-

And bump straight into him. _Just singin', Singin' in the rain_, he trills his last whistle in time with the music. It hangs in the air, and then he grabs me.

I wasn't really shocked, I was expecting it after all, but I still cried out, I still started struggling. I can feel my belly pressed against him. He has me by the shoulders; I can hear the rough animal-like inhales.

I scream again in loud protest as I feel myself being dragged/carried off. _Singin' in the Rain_ blares from the old Victrola as I'm rushed by it. I can feel tears blur my eyes again. I want to plead, I actually open my mouth, but I immediately decide against it. There is no point; I know he can't be moved.

I'm not led, I'm _dragged_ to the desk as I feel rough hands run over me, when I feel cold and hear ripping I realize my clothes were being torn off. He inhales deeply once again.

"Pl-please no." I say automatically with no expectation of being heard. My body is soaked with rainwater. The sudden rush of cool air on bare wet skin makes me shiver. I can feel rough hands pinning my arms to my side. _No no no no, _I moan silently. I can feel him, rubbing slowly against me. He groans and closes his eyes as he continues rubbing against the soft skin on my thigh. I can feel him growing harder.

_Please, please, somebody help me, anybody_ I thought wildly. This was the standard pre-coital panic. Now I'm squirming uselessly, thrashing in an attempt to get away. He starts snarling at me, telling me to be still. He shrugs off his coat in the effort.

"**STOP!" **I screamed in desperation as he wrestled me onto the table. Although I was still so unhappy and frightened I could feel the anger burn up my throat. _No, no_ _screw this. I'm not going without a fight! _I hit him, not hard because my swings are wild and, let's face it; I was never that strong to begin with. But I'm still making it hard for him. Looking supremely irritated he shoved me down again, at that point I immediately started kicking.

He makes a noise that sounds like a sigh of impatience and pushes my legs open, wedging himself in between them. Instantly I start swinging at him again. I try to claw out his eyes. I can feel him; he's pushing himself inside of me. His weight settles on me. I hiss in slight pain.

My attempts to strike him become wilder; I can't remember ever being so angry. I think I wanted to kill him. Angry as well he began his thrusting harshly. He suddenly and swiftly lunged and bit my hand, but quickly released it again. It wasn't a deep wound but it was painful enough to get my attention. Chastised, I pull my hands back and do not annoy him further. I caught the drift of his message. "Hit me again and I'll bite them off"

I resigned myself, and try to focus my mind elsewhere. He held my legs up higher and leered down at me, I could feel his tempo increase _Not this time_ I thought stubbornly, I hissed angrily and tried pushing some of his weight off of me.

He snarled and promptly bit into my neck.

I screamed, a pure wail of pain, and struck him again. He shuddered and bit down harder. I could feel my blood flow into his mouth and his hated tongue running obscenely over the injury. "GET OFF!" I screamed in pain and fear and desperation, and I pushed him with all my might.

He continued thrusting but he rose. I could see what can only be described as a glazed look in his eyes. I could see myself reflected in them. I don't know how to describe what was happening at that moment. It could not have been longer than a second, maybe time slowed, maybe my mind worked faster.

I saw him staring at me, with that hideous predatory look in his eyes. I could feel the wound throb. I saw him licking his lips, eyeing my jugular with hunger.

I knew at that moment.

When his head plunged down I swung my arm up. This wasn't a girlish slap or a wild swing; I landed a hard solid blow to his jaw. His head actually snapped to the side. It hurt like hell but I couldn't feel it at the time, and I didn't think I hurt him too badly either. He actually paused, coughed up some dust then continued on. I was shocked to see one of his mandibles were broken.

Grunting like an animal he came a few minutes later. He collapsed on top of me, licking the congealing bite wound on my neck.

"Get off!" I screamed again and shoved him with all I could. He stayed a few minutes, panting and licking. When my lungs started struggling to gather air under his weight he got up.

I saw him glaring down at me with his awful brown eyes. When I felt him withdraw I instantly and viciously kicked him away. I turned my head, mostly in shame, and curled up in myself on his desk.

I think I sobbed, once, if he felt anything from that or even heard it I don't know. I could feel his breath on my back.

Quickly, but gently, he reached underneath me and neatly flipped me onto my stomach. I started to struggle but he very easily held my hands and my hips. I decided against it. He, using his feet, very smoothly spread me apart again.

I tensed myself, but could do nothing to resist in this position. I could feel his tongue again. He was licking off the cooling sweat gathering on the small of my back and my neck.

I shivered again and suppressed a moan. I could feel the very tip of him touching me; I could feel my muscles desperately trying to grab him. _Not again_, I thought in embarrassment. I was too tired to be angry or to focus my mind on other things.

Still holding me still he slowly, tortuously, began to rub up against me, but not into me, which is what my body desperately wanted. He ran his tongue over me again as I felt myself grow damp. He stopped rubbing when he pressed against the swelling nub. I let in another shallow gasp and shuddered, trying not moan. He begins to push up against it gently, insistently.

"S-s-top." I moan pitifully. "Please!" He completely ignores me, focusing on the task at hand.

My fingers dug into the table, I toss my head back and groan. I can feel something wet running down my thighs. Dimly I realized I've never ever felt anything this intense. Not in my entire life.

I can the feel the crest of the oncoming climax when I hear him groan and pull away. I-to my ever lasting shame-almost cried out in protest, but he quickly utilized his tongue to complete the task. By then I was far too gone to care. It's the most physically wonderful and emotionally horrible thing I've had since the first time I met him.

Sobbing, mewling and clinging for dear life to the desk, I almost didn't notice him gently entering me again. He was slow, almost apologetic, as if this was to make up for the brutal, angry fight-sex of before. I, of course was in no position to resist.

The Creeper had done his previous task so well I felt no pain, although the weight on my hips was disconcerting as he happily mounted me fully. I felt him beginning his thrusts again. Unhurried at first, he leisurely sped up the pace, I groaned again. Silently praying this was the last time.

Seemingly sensing my discomfort he angled his thrusts somewhat differently. When he found the sweet spot inside of me, the place he had cleverly discovered the first night, he made sure to hit it with every plunge. This position put pressure on places I never knew I had. I made noises of pleasure regularly and involuntarily. He growled in response, eagerly sniffing the air around me and licking my back.

This time around was much less intense but I still buried my face into the writing carvings on the desk and cried out. Absolutely nothing I could do but allow this unwanted pleasure to wash over me and wonder at how my body could so eagerly betray me. He naturally delighted in my gentle, consensual-seeming contracting and, rumbling in pleasure, came a few minutes afterwards.

Rotten. That's what my I felt like. I wasn't in a terrible amount of pain, my neck still throbbed and some skin had been inadvertently pulled loose by his claws, but I don't think I could've been considered torture victim. He terrified me but did no lasting physical damage. In fact he had _gone out of his way_ to manipulate me into pleasure.

_My guts feel rotted_, like they would fall out. Physical pain was minimal, I could've easily handled it, but what I was feeling inside of me was beyond dreadful. I felt so tired and weak. Weak, morally, not physically. I had completely failed to resist-again.

He was still on me, and inside of me. One of his arms curled around me, he smells my hair with contented breaths, occasionally he pushes into me again, but seemingly had no desire to initiate another session.

_Please get off_ I thought, but did not say out loud. If I opened my mouth my rotted insides would spill out, or more vomit. I tremble, a little, but make no noise. I feel like I'm trying to hide from him once more, even though we're close as can possibly be. He starts exploring my neck again, running his tongue gingerly over the wound. At that point I squirm in discomfort. I just want him to leave, but I also can't stand to be alone. I can't face myself, I can't look inside me and see my own glaring weakness peer back.

When he pulls me up I noticed faintly that his desk carvings had impressed themselves on my skin. Beasts and monsters and screaming human souls tattooed themselves temporarily on my breasts, thighs, stomach and buttocks. The carving he made based on my drawing was settled right above my pubic bone. A sign, _a little sleeping Creeper is here. _

I can't even look at him; it isn't even about fear anymore. It takes me a moment to realize but I'm ashamed. I'm feeling so horribly guilty. I tilt my head forward and hide my face behind my long dark hair.

He easily carries me away from the desk, probably assuming I'm too weak with passion or pain to walk on my own. Before I have time to fret where I'm going to sleep he places me unceremoniously onto a small pile of hay. It's scratchy but it cushions my bones. Out of the corner of my eye I see him clear the rest of desk off and promptly begin working on something again. I can feel a crippling depression hovering in my mind, also disbelief, depersonalization and more distantly, boiling anger. However my primary emotions are shame, and piled on top of that, weariness.

Sleep then becomes the main desire. So I adjust my body on the hay. I notice with distaste I can feel his fluid running down my legs. I blink my eyes slowly and I'm out within minutes.

_It hurts. A lot. My body is asleep but my mind seems awake. Inside are all the monsters and demons I've felt possessing me since I stumbled into the gas station. Long dead people gaze up at me. Some plead, most look on in humiliating pity. I see my mother and can't bear to look into her face. Crows swirl around in a voracious murder. I can see Elsa Daniels sleeping painfully, the snake-demon grins at me lasciviously and bites my stomach painlessly. Corn rustles with no breeze. A tiny monster is curled up sleeping, sucking on his toes. He looks so peaceful and content. He's dreaming. The waxing moon is red, dipped in blood. I'm so dizzy. I think I might throw up._

_I can feel him too. The dream boy comes to me, running along. I see a flash of yellow. I can feel his pity. He tries to comfort me. I'm so sorry, so sorry._

_It's rude, but I'm too angry to care. I'm enraged. I hate all this shame and pity. I hate my helplessness. I ignore him, turn my subconscious back on him. Then I shut them all out completely. It's the dream equivalent of slamming a door in his face._


	13. Chapter 13

I didn't dream much after that. It was just merciful black sleep.

My eyes snapped open shortly however. I tried to force myself asleep again. Of course sleep doesn't work that way. I couldn't sink into oblivion again.

I tried to hold it back. But I felt all the shame and other bad emotions flood over me.

I whimpered softly. I felt tears again. I buried my face in the hay.

I couldn't mope, I felt like I had to get up. I felt-

I saw him sitting at his desk. He had the little boy's corpse from yesterday, only it seemed grotesquely hollow. I watched in shock, horror and disgust as calmly grabbed a handful of the grass and stuffed it _into_ the little boy.

I felt like I would throw up, but I did not. It made sense, somehow. I looked around at the corpses plastered everywhere. So this is how he did it.

I feel so unclean, like filth. All the things I've seen things I've done? Maybe I'm being corrupted. My once comfortable mind and morality twisted by this beast. It's an incredibly depressing thought.

Yet I don't despair again. I don't cry. Instead I'm enraged, I feel like I'm boiling over. If I had a little less self control I would have given in to my emotions and stated screaming at him or attacking him, fortunately I did not.

I was still so angry, angry at him for what he did, angry at me for not resisting physically or mentally, angry at him for his clever manipulation. _He knows what buttons to push..._ I felt disgustingly impure.

The decision was created and acted upon almost instantly. As if I had planned it all along I opened my backpack with angry sharp movements. I pulled out everything I needed. Gathering it all in my arms I turned on my heel and walked, still naked, out of the office.

I caught sight of him looking at me, and gave him the ugliest glare I could muster. Then I disappeared thought the winding, wet hallways. My heart felt like it would explode, I checked nervously over my shoulder again, he did not follow me.

When my bare feet waded through the water flooding the hall I began to have doubts, but my anger and shame spurred me onward. Finding the main entrance I pushed on it, it was open.

The rain was still pouring heavily. It was icy, bone-chillingly cold, but I forced myself to ignore that. I had to do this. My tears mixed with rain a little as I washed his scent out of my hair. They dried by the time I started on my body. My rage had congealed into cold hard determination by the time I got to my legs. It was shameful to be reminded of my violation, rewarding to finally wash the Creeper's seed off of me.

When I finally felt clean and untainted again I gathered my toiletries and walked, shaking, back into the building. It was unbelievably cold, it felt like I was almost having a seizure I was shaking so bad. I endured, at some level the cold felt good, purifying,

He was still there when I came back watching me curiously as I walked in, teeth chattering and lips blue. I caught sight of the poor boy, now part of the ghoulish decorations. _Ohhh I'm so sorry kid,_ I thought but mostly that just fed fuel to my temper. I glared at him in obvious disgust again, and made my dripping body pointedly comfortable on his dry hay.

He observed me with a neutral expression tinged slightly with curiosity. I snorted contemptuously at him again and deliberately turned my back, then focused on trying to get warm in the hay.

As I snuggled in I reflected on my emotions. Sadness yes, still felt ashamed but the improvised shower made me feel a little better. My rage was only dampened slightly by the cold. _I'm so mad at him, I hate him SO much. _I thought _I'm going to have to deal with this._

_Just please don't do anything stupid. _He pleaded.

I cried out in surprise; I wasn't even fully asleep yet. I could feel him smile. I remembered how shortly before the rape I had a vision; the corpses had come alive and were screaming at me.

I shut my eyes tightly and held on to my "bed" trying to get a grip. _I'm going insane. I __**must**__ be going insane. I see dreams while I'm awake! _I wondered briefly if everything was a hallucination Maybe I was really in a loony bin somewhere.

_Please_, he said, and then paused helplessly. I understood what he was going through. What can he really say?

I felt my sadness replace my anger. What I did was wrong, I took out my anger on him, and he just wanted to help. I apologized for it.

_Don't feel bad_, he said reasonably. _You have enough bad things to worry about_.

_I know, _I shut my eyes tightly and squeezed out tears. _I hate this, I hate pity!_ Even though I was feeling very self pitying myself.

The boy paused awkwardly again, I knew he was struggling to find something to "say". I fought my tears.

_Listen _he finally said gently, _no one looks down on you, I-we-kinda admire you actually._

That caught me a little off guard. I thought that over for a moment. I could only ask him why.

_Well_, he stumbled a bit, _It might be presumptuous, but, I know a little of what you're going through. But there's no way I would hold out as long as you did. I could never have coped like this._

_Ha_, I thought sarcastically_, I am losing it._

He said, much more seriously, _I have to tell you something, you are __**not**__ going insane. I am real, real as you, real as your mom._

I looked over and saw her there, next to the older dark-skinned woman.

Oh God I thought in horror. I couldn't face her, not now. I started trembling and almost cried again. But he helped me. _Its okay, its okay_ he assured. _Don't worry about it. I'm sorry, I thought-_

_Who __**are**__ you?!_ I demanded. I didn't know if I was going insane or not, but I wanted still to understand. I didn't know if I could even trust this blurry apparition or not.

_Well like I said before_, he said uneasily, _you have to figure it out_.

I thought about him, why couldn't I see him? I thought about what I saw, I remembered my mother I shook my head. I didn't even want to think about showing my weak pitiful self to her. The more I thought of her, the sadder I became. I missed her so much. Even though she died a while ago I still felt-

Then I had my first realization. She was dead, did that mean-?

I stared at him in shock. He became slightly clearer. I could see him nod.

_Oh,_ was all I could say. He was dead. I was talking to a ghost.

Before this, before everything, that idea might have alarmed me, but now I felt nothing except surprise.

We both said nothing for a few minutes. I finally stabbed the silence with an obvious statement, just to make sure. _You're dead. _I said in a soft, hopefully respectable tone._ Yeah_, he replied simply. There was no happiness or sadness in this answer. He was simply sating a fact. I thought again and instantly came up with my next question.

_If you are all dead, why-why can't I see you? I saw my mom._

He didn't seem angry or anything, to my relief, I really didn't want to start pissing off dead people.

_Like I said, you don't see me because you don't want to see me._

_Because if I do I'll see something terrible? _I replied.

_Yeah_, he simply stated again.

He's dead, I thought, dead people, dead people what? Why can't I see him? _I see dead people_, okay movie I guess, didn't really help me though.

_Focus,_ I told myself, this boy is dead, why would he talk to me? He said he understood...Then came my second realization: _You were killed by the Creeper! _I cried. It made sense.

_Yeah_, he said, another monotone. I began to feel maybe I was angering him now. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it. Understandable, I wasn't even dead and I didn't want to talk about it. I almost apologized but decided against it.

Realizing who had killed him was only another step. I now knew why I didn't want to see him. I've been trying my hardest not to see the people like him. Despite my fear and horror, I turned to look. He began to become clearer. I trembled, it was awful. I didn't want to look, but I was too curious not to. I knew I would see something horrible.

_Even if it's terrible, even if it's the worst thing in the world, I will still look._

When I was finally able to focus, I could see him. It was truly terrible. He must have had an unbearable death. He was naked, but there were no worries of modesty. He was handsome I suppose, or had been handsome, well muscled, in shape. My eyes traveled upwards. He had no bellybutton, I saw his face.

_This is what he must now look like_ I thought dizzily. His lips were chewed raw, and I knew it had been in the agony of his gruesome end. His mouth was slightly open, screaming in silent torture. His shaggy hair was mussed.

But that wasn't the worst, not by far. When I moved to look into his eyes I had to scream in shock and terror_. He has no eyes!_ His eyes were gone, just gone! I was staring not into his brain, or even into his skull, I could see right _through _him!

I simply stared in silent horror for God knows how long. I noticed his sockets were crusty, they had congealed. There were claw marks trailing away from them.

_Oh God, _I moaned again, it was obvious, He ripped them right out! Now he's just a decoration!

_Yessss_, he hissed in barely concealed rage. _Pulled them right out of me, ripped them out while I was screaming and begging for my sister, for my mother-_

_Stop! _I begged the corpse. _Please, I'm so sorry, _I was trembling now, I felt sick again, sad, terrified. I couldn't stop shaking.

_Hey! _He cried out, instantly adopting a more gentle tone_. I'm not mad at you I'm mad at __**him.**__ I'm mad because, well look!_

I looked again, the shock was lessened somewhat, but I was still trembling _I'm sorry_, was all I could say. I could understand his anger, his rage at the monster that had done this. All my problems suddenly felt trivial.

_It's over for me, not for you,_ he reminded. _You keep going, use your head-_

_I'm sorry,_ I said, _but I have to know_,_ who are you_?

The corpse's mouth curled and opened, I was still shaking.

I was really shaking, The Creeper loomed over me, and his foot was on me, grabbing me, shaking me awake. I squawked weakly in protest. Apparently satisfied I was awake he immediately left me alone.

I was still shaking, still staring blindly in mute horror at what I had seen. It wasn't that scary, I had seen far more scary things lately. But the shaking wouldn't stop, couldn't stop.

That's when I knew something was wrong.

Two days later

I'm sick.

Not morning sickness, not vomiting in disgust. It's real feverish, vomiting, aches and chills sickness. It must have been the rain.

_God I feel so stupid._

I've been lying on the straw naked and wet, alternately shivering and roasting. Whatever wasn't fully digested promptly came back up. I barely had the energy to turn my head, let alone get up and tend to myself. I spent days simply resting on the straw, like a weak sickly animal.

HE's been of little help. I saw him wipe up the mess when he realized I couldn't even sit up, let alone clean it. I felt him sniff me a few times. Today when I was conscious enough to register him inspecting me he looked directly into my eyes. "Not normal." He grated out.

"No, not normal." I coughed back.

There was nothing he could really do. Or anything I could do. I just had to wait till it was over.

I felt so stupid. My shame and anger caused me to stand in freezing rain in order to wash him off. Now I was paying the price.

To escape I mostly slept. My dreams were barely coherent. They were the kind of hazy horrible dreams that can only be imagined during fevers. I don't really remember them, they certainly weren't lucid, but I know I dreamed of copses, of crows, of eyeless faces.

I had one long strange dream of a battle. A violent epic war wrapped in a blurry red haze of blood, anger and horror. Sometimes it seemed to be in third person, but sometimes I felt I was one of the warriors fighting. I knew the battle was hopeless, I knew I would probably die, but I and everyone else knew that we had to fight.

The evil we fought against was nameless, but immense. Our armor shattered, our blood spilled, our horses panicked at trampled their riders. I attacked with uncontrollable fury heedless of the pain burning in my head, or the knives protruding in my stomach. My throat was scraped raw by screams of fear and fury. My whole body shook.

Eventually we proved futile. The crows that had longed circled are army finally descended. Eyes and tongues and brave hearts were mercilessly removed. Our bones returned to the dust, our bodies corrupted into clay. Eventually all that was left of our once mighty army was rotting banners, rusting armor and a frozen horrific tableau of the corpses of men and beasts bursting through the dried mud. I saw an eyeless face gazing at me.

I woke up screaming again shortly after.

Unknown 

So sick I can barely think

Unknown 

It's nearly impossible to figure how much time has passed. I'm so unbelievably sick. It's only gotten worse. I've only has the strength to crawl over and drink some emergency water, once. The only relief is sleep, but that's only temporary and a poor relief anyway. I dream only of my grinding stomach, my burning forehead and the knife scraping my throat raw.

I hate being sick, it's never fun but this sickness seems worse somehow. Maybe it's because I don't have the energy to care for myself, nor the will. When my thoughts were coherent I actually wondered if I was dying, then realized I really didn't care if I was.

I have no external help either. I've stared into his eyeless face, but the fever acted as a prism, scattering and confusing my dreams. Sometimes I dreamed of my mom, I dreamed of being held, that was the most comforting thing I had experienced. HE has been of no help either. I only vaguely remember him sniffing me. I think once he might have licked my face, if he had done anything to help me I don't know. He simply didn't exist to me.

Maybe this sickness only seems long, maybe it's drawn out because at home I would have had friends and family or at the very least medical personnel looking out for me, taking care of me. Here I have no one, only an inhuman monster with a vested interested in keeping me alive and probably only the faintest idea of what he's doing. It a scary and lonely thought, depending totally, completely on yourself.

I'm falling asleep again. I lick my chapped lips; the fever has destroyed my senses can't tell you what was taking place three feet in front of me, I need to…

Later Unknown 

I fell asleep. I slept for a very long time. I woke up feeling slightly better.

When I awoke there was a musty-smelling old blanket, how it got there I had no idea. _Did I pull it on myself?_ I thought, but I had no way to be sure, and it truly didn't matter anyway. Under the blanket I was broiling, when I yanked it off I was shocked by how cold it was. Then I realized that in all this time I was still naked. It was incredibly disorientating.

I knew what I had to do, but it was hard. I wasn't in the horrible catatonic fever filled state as before but I was still weak and in pain. I cursed my stupidity again. I crawled, slowly, off the mound of hay. Pausing to rest every few seconds I made my way slowly over to my luggage. Luckily my emergency water packets were on top. I ripped one open-the energy that needed was almost too much- and drained it. To my relief I held it down.

The next task was much harder, but it had to be done. Opening the bag I pulled out the first clothes I saw; a very thin cotton nightshirt and sweat pants. I pulled them on.

I actually had to lay my head on the bag and doze on the cold floor for a few minutes, I was that weak. Afterwards I crawled back onto the dead grass and pulled the blanket on me. For the next few minutes I dealt with my wretchedly uncomfortable chills. I threw the blanket off and pulled it on again in semi-sleep. At one point I felt so hot I considered taking off my sweat pants again. But eventually I found some sort of medium and drifted into sleep once more.

Sleep

I spoke to the dead boy again.

It was hard, I didn't want to look, so he became blurred, when I turned to speak to him he became clearer, but it was so terrible and sad to gaze at him, I usually gazed away again.

He seemed to be able to control his appearance, he gradually appeared less horrifying. He was no longer naked; I saw a yellow shirt with the word **BANNON** dimly printed on it. His blood and wounds disappeared; it was still hard to look where his eyes once were though.

It seemed liked he was wavering between his death and his life. Sometimes I saw a corpse, sometimes I saw a living boy. I asked him to show me his eyes, he said he couldn't.

_Same basic principle_, he explained. _You don't want to see them, so you__can't_.

During my few waking hours I thought about it. This boy, if he wasn't an insane vision, was dead, and he died by the Creeper. He had his eyes ripped out, and his belly button cut out too by the looks of it.

_Oh My God_ I realized, _you're a part of him now. He ripped out your eyes and ate them._

After that it was hard but I worked up my courage, with him supporting me every step. I would trail my eyes slowly up to his. I didn't even want to think of the Creeper's gaze so I usually failed.

However the boy insisted I persisted and. I thought of the few times I could look into the monster's horrible face. I tried to imagine the Creeper's eyes in his sockets.

_My eyes_, he growled. _They are mine, he just stole them!_

_I'm sorry_, I said sheepishly. He swiftly said it was okay. Then he urged me to concentrate again.

Eyes, I thought. What did those eyes look like? I struggled to remember, they were brown, okay that helped. When I pulled up some usually traumatic memory it seemed I could only remember the Creeper's glare, not the actual eyes.

I focused again. I thought back to the first night, the first time I saw him. The dream morphed. Oh, there's the gas station, no one is there, I go in, I hear screaming, I move with curiosity and some compassion into the back. I see two figures.

_a large figure in a trench coat leaning over a figure on the ground, which was bleeding profusely, a large whole in the middle of his stomach. I screamed and the figure turned, it was holding was horribly looked like PART of a stomach!_

_Noooo_, I moan, I can feel the boy's arms on me, he's reassuring me, telling me it's okay, that I'm doing great.

There I am, I slide down that drain pipe, like an idiot. I stop and stare in wonder and in horror, like a coward. I don't resist, I don't fight, I'm positive the end is near.

Then something totally unexpected happens, instead of being killing me he's on top of me. My body is chained; I can feel his tongue, his skin. I can hear his grunting and snarling. I can see his eyes roll in sheer ecstasy.

Then I remember.

When my eyes first met his, I was terrified. I can see the evil, the lust, the hunger in them, but a small part of me was struck by the same eyes. I thought that despite what they revealed about him, they were a surprising soft brown color.

Now that I've relived the worst night of my life, I raised my eyes again. My whole mind is screaming not to do it, I hate looking into the Creeper's eyes, into the boy's eyes.

_Don't do it, don't do it_, my lips are trembling, but I still force my gaze up. I try to think of his eyes by aesthetic purposes only. They really are nice eyes.

When my eyes meet his it was both shocking and anti-climatic. I jumped, but shortly afterwards I realized there was absolutely nothing to fear. It was like opening a closet to find the scary shadow was only actually something mundane. Fear, then instant relief. I felt a little foolish for being so afraid in the first place.

_You did it! Holy shit, that was great!_ He cried. I gave a trembling smile and blushed, and tried to retreat, _it's nothing, really. I'm actually quite a coward._

_My ass! _He cried playfully and grabbed my hand. He eagerly pulled me along. I looked into his eyes again. It was hard to believe they were the exact same eyes.

Later

He told me about his death.

He adopted somber tone. I kept respectfully kept quiet.

_I was traveling on East Highway Nine with my sister_. He explained. _It was Spring break._

I wondered briefly how many sad stories started with "I was on East Highway Nine", mine did.

_He attacked us, like he attacked you, big ugly truck, horns blaring, scared the shit out of us. Of course we thought of the story of Kenny and Darla, of COURSE we dismissed it._ I was instantlyjolted back into memory, I thought about the legends I had heard too.

He went on, describing his hilarious sibling rivalry, the stupid bickering they had, he recalled the stupid country song he sang to tease his sister. He even remembered the goofy lyrics.

_You broke my heart in two_

_Now I can't even find the duct tape _

_to put it together for you_

I'm crying now, silently.

As he told his story the dream shifted. I wasn't just hearing his voice I was looking into his private memory.

I saw the Creeper, unrecognizable as anything but a man dumping corpses down the drain pipe. I saw and shared with the boy's horror when he saw inside the church. The paralyzing fear afterwards, the actual, honest- to- God_ psychic_ that tried to warn them, the cops killed, the strange cat lady, the Police station.

That's where it boiled down to. Apparently even the Creeper didn't know who he wanted until the very end. He had to smell them both. Maybe brothers and sisters smell similar.

I was weeping in fear and pity by the time the Creeper had the boy. I was struck by his sister's impassioned defense and her offer of self sacrifice. The boy shared with me a guilty secret:

_When I realized it was me not her, my first thought, my first instant thought, was "No, take her not me!" I immediately felt guilty, horribly guilty. I begged her not to but of course she ignored that and offered herself instead. When that didn't work I felt a small satisfaction. At least she would live. Her life would go on._

He gave me a small quick look, but then continued.

_I died, here, right in this room_, he explained quietly. _It was horrible, the worst pain imaginable, God I hate him, but it was over fairly quickly. I'll spare you the details, you've been through enough but_, he appeared as an eyeless corpse again, I heard the Jeepers Creepers song playing hauntingly in the back ground._ You know what happened._

I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

_I'm dead_, he said simply, _nothing can change that. My death was horrible but it was a long time ago. I still hate the fucker, _I felt him tremble briefly in anger_, but the dead shouldn't hold grudges, there's absolutely no point. No purpose, it just holds you back._

He turned to me, once again looking like a living boy_; my only regret is the time I wasted. I wish I didn't argue so much with my sister. I really loved her you know, and she loved me. _He sighed; it was such a long sad sigh that I started crying again. _Life is too damn short_. He concluded.

Through my tears I asked, _why are you telling me all this?_

The question seemed to catch him off guard. He paused for a long time then slowly explained.

_Well, I um, I'm trying to help you_

That surprised me. I plainly never considered that.

_Okay,_ I said, _how?_

_Well, knowledge is power right? I know him, ask me anything. I want to help you_.

My first question was immediately blurted out, but it didn't seem to be one he expected.

_Who __**are**__ you?_ I asked. He seemed surprised.

Then the dream world disappeared. The Creeper was shaking me awake again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Kinda another filler chapter. THANKYOU to all those who review, especially eat me, I was worried you had exploded or something. I should use redplantetes drawings more often. The offer is still in effect, as well as the baby Creeper one.

Funny thing is, I started getting horribly sick when I wrote this. Luckily it only lasted a day.

The small flashback Maria has is a direct quote from the original fic, so I can't take credit for it. Thank you Fnxmoon, wherever you may be.


	14. Chapter 14

I woke up very confused. I saw his face looking down at me once again. My confused mind began to panic. I could see the Creeper, but everything was blurry and fuzzy. I thought for one horrible moment that the fever and affected my vision, dimmed it somehow. Then I realize my eyes were crusted over. I blinked and rubbed them vigorously.

The Creeper, holding my upper arm, pulled me up to a sitting position onto the hay. Still rubbing I saw him direct my attention to a small pyramid of corn ears laying neatly on the floor.

"Oh." I said, "thanks."

He nodded then left.

Blinking I picked up an ear. It felt heavy, no I was weaker. I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts. The fever broke, even though I still felt like crap, I was a lot better than I had been in the last few days. I could sit up, but could I eat?

I tried to bite the corn but it was way too much of an effort. I sat there helplessly for a few minutes, wondering why he expected me to eat this. I gnawed slightly on it for a little bit. Afterwards I just decided it wasn't worth the effort and tried to sleep again.

I had barely closed my eyes when he walked in. He instantly started shaking me. I groaned and tried to turn over. He forced me up again. 

"What do you want?" I moaned. I just wanted to sleep. He picked up the ear and held it to my face. I drew my head back, "not hungry" I muttered trying to lay down once more.

He reached under my knees and lifted me up, I felt the fear pound through my weakened body again. "NO!" I tried to scream but no sound came out, so I lowered my voice and let out another hoarse "NO!"

"No No NO" I coughed up in panic. He can't do it again; if he does it again I'll die.

Looking surprised he gently set me down on the old blanket. I can feel the cold from the floor seep through. He once again held the corn to me, once again I tried to resist. Sighing with annoyance he tried to force feed me it.

"Mmmpha " I cried as I twisted my head away. "Let, mmmmlee, shleep " I sputtered. He growled and pushed it into my mouth.

Finally I took the corn again, "fine." I was too tired. "Fine." I tried chewing on it, but I just couldn't, I wanted nothing more in the world to toss that stupid thing away and curl up again, but this bastard wouldn't let me. I sort half heatedly nibbled on it with my front teeth. I could smell soil and chemicals again.

_I need to wash this_ I thought, I achingly made my way to my bag and opened another water packet. I groaned inwardly as I saw there was very few left. I stuck my hand in the bag, hopefully probing for more.

The second my fingers came in contact with the smooth slightly rounded object I knew what it was.

I bite my lip in thought. I had forgotten about it. It was a useful tool, but HE might take it away. It might help me survive, it might help me escape.

It might even be used as a weapon.

My eyes darted around discreetly, he was watching me, making sure I ate. 

I wanted to use it but I didn't know what the consequences of him seeing it were. It would be another small blow to have it taken away, but he wouldn't let me not eat. I decided to chance.

Casually turning my back to him as if I was merely moving into that position for better access to the contents of my bag I set the now washed corn and the half drained water packet on my lap. Quickly hiding the object in my fist I brought it to my lap too.

In my palm the Swiss army knife looked pitifully small and useless. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was far better than my fists, and it might prove very useful, I didn't want it taken away.

Slowly, because opening the long knife was a feat in of itself for my shaky hands, I moved the tool into position and scraped off the kernels into my lap. Most of them came off easily enough. Sometimes using the knife, and sometimes by grinding it in my molars I mixed in the water and made a sort of soft corn meal that I could easily swallow. A mortar and pestle would have been ideal, but my teeth and the knife seemed good enough

When I finally ate everything I could have I sighed and started to crawl back again. I was so tired I barely jumped when I felt his breath on me.

He was lurking behind me. I resisted the urge to whimper in fear. I gripped the knife. _If he touches me again I'll kill him,_ a voice in my head said calmly. I don't know where such bravado came from.

It turned out all he wanted me to do was to eat some more. I laughed in his face.

"No way," I sneered, (or tried to my throat was starting to hurt again). He tried to bully me into eating another ear. I pushed it back and said bluntly:

"Listen I'm going to throw up if I eat any more, I could barely eat the first one." It was true my stomach felt full to bursting. Maybe it shrunk or something.

Sitting calmly on the hay I allowed him to smell me thoroughly all over. I repeated my refusal to eat the corn. He finally left me alone. 

Later

I slept again, unfortunately it was dreamless. It was also short. I awoke hungry once more and ate more corn kernels. Every time I wake up I feel better and stronger.

The Creeper definitely notices it. He smells me eagerly and intently, everywhere.

I'm lying on the hay, in a semi-reclining position. His hands are on my knees; his face is buried in between my legs. I'm blushing in horrid embarrassment. He has absolutely no sense of privacy.

Next he moves up to my stomach. He lifts my nightshirt to reveal my swelling belly. When I awoke I was ravenous. My arms and legs felt like twigs after weeks of poor eating, however my stomach was round. The first image that came to mind was those missionary organizations who endlessly show pictures of children in Africa or wherever. I never completely understood why, but I saw their little stomachs swell even when they were starving. That was my first panicky thought when I saw my body. Then I remembered, duh, I'm pregnant. Despite my lack of food lately it must be doing fine.

The Creeper seems to confirm that. When he's done sniffing my stomach and he draws back to make a happy little screech.

_Hooray I'm still pregnant_. I think sarcastically. But I say nothing, I'm just very still. I don't even move to scratch my head. Now he's drawing up closer, sniffing my breasts, my neck and face. He begins licking.

I wince and shrink back. He still moves in closer, and then he's practically on top of me again. I scream and push him away. He gets up, with reluctance it seems.

I know my eyes are wide and burning. I can't tolerate him any more. I want to start screaming at him but I resist. I clutch the Swiss army knife in my hand. _If he touches me I'll KILL HIM!_ Came the voice in my head.

My whole body is shaking; I've almost lost control of my anger

To distract myself, I bite my lip, it's become a habit. I bite down until I taste blood.

**I watch her discreetly.**

**Right now she's gnawing on her food, but earlier she was doing something I don't like. It's nothing blatant, but it's troubling. Her lips are still scabby; they don't heal because she reopens the wound. She tears at her hair. Occasionally she stares off into space, absentmindedly picking her skin off.**

**It's nothing serious, nothing that will kill her, but it still makes me very uneasy.**

**My memory is an odd thing, it's not automatic, the early things I can't remember, and some things leave me for days, or even years. Right now a memory is trying to return, bubbling up slowly in my mind.**

**Humans as pets is so rare, I can only recall less then a handful, and humans like her are rarer still. I try to think back, but I don't have many memories concerning children. Most of them are dead.**

**One memory comes to me however, about one woman who hurt herself. She was a breeder too...**

Sky Eyes looked carefully at the dawn.

She gathered the corn necessary for breakfast, and offered a quick prayer of thanks to Grandfather Sun.

She knew she had much to be thankful for, the corn crop was good this year, hopefully no one would starve. She had seen that, felt hunger pains, and heard of famines that wiped out whole villages. The woman quickly gathered the needed corn and headed swiftly back to her pueblo.

She noticed an odd shadow that marred the sunlight. But it was quickly gone.

Later in the pueblo, Sky Eyes ground corn while her elderly mother slept; she loved this chore, as it allowed her to think unbothered.

She thought about the pueblos, who stood carved into mesas and canyon walls. She often had to rock climb or use rope ladders to move about her town. Long ago, the stories went, the ancestors descended into this area, the corn was abundant, the rain was plentiful, and they carved their homes to protect themselves against enemy tribes.

It largely worked, her tribe survived, all her life, and her mother's life, and her grandmothers life they never felt the sting of enemy raids, of vicious inter tribal warfare.

However Sky Eyes worried, they couldn't build against the weather, either the rains or snow came, or they didn't. And if they decided not to then people starved.

She thought back to the old legends, of how this place being so plentiful The People's numbers swelled, of the food that could feed them all. The oldest woman in the pueblo, a woman so old her granddaughter was having babies, spoke of past times were the tribe didn't have to worry and pray if the rains would come or not, the gods guaranteed it, yet lately everything seemed… drier. Sky Eyes wondered if the gods were angry.

_Who knows what the gods think_. They were barely comprehensible. Gods can be wrathful or benevolent, they could create mankind out of clay and corn, or they could utterly destroy him. Maybe the gods would decide to withhold the rain this year, which means next year no corn.

Sky Eyes thought a lot about the gods. Next to her mundane world lived a whole pantheon of invisible, ancient, powerful deities and spirits. They had to be prayed to, appeased and occasionally sacrificed to. They utterly controlled her life, everybody's life.

She thought of Grandfather Sun, Grandmother Earth, all humans, originated from her womb underneath a lake. Spider Woman, who helped create mankind and taught women to weave, Mother Corn who loved mankind to, feed him with her own flesh. The death god, the rain spirits who looked like men with wings, the moon goddess, whose pale sons were gods who came from the east, and Xipe Totec, "Our Lord the Flayed One" he resided in the field, he tore off his own skin like humans tore off the corn's. Some said he was vengeful, but he rarely showed his face to mankind. Ancients to the south, ones who built great stone cities and pyramids were said to offer this god, or gods like him, human skin.

Despite the creeping heat, Sky Eyes shuddered.

However her grim thoughts were soon interrupted by her mother stirring.

Without even thinking about it, she immediately presented the corn meal to her. The woman knew her mother's stomach would be empty when she awoke.

"Ahhh Sky Eyes", her mother murmured. Sky Eyes felt a huge swelling of love, nobody else in the tribe, nobody else in the world cared for her. She was her mother's first child, her only child when her father first got a good look at her. And although this may have been her husband's pueblo, she was happiest when he was gone. Happiest when it was just her and her mother.

Her mother ate the corn meal greedily; Sky Eyes busied herself around the dwelling. She lit the kiva and set the rest of the meal to cook. They would have it for their midday snack.

When her mother finished she eyes the extra corn warily, and repeated one of her favorite maxims "only the fool takes more than he can eat." Sky Eyes grinned apologetically and gestured to the extra corn which she was beginning to prepare. "I had to pluck some extra, for when he comes back mother."

Her mother said nothing, but Sky Eyes got the impression she wanted to give a sarcastic snort, or roll her eyes. Her husband was rarely home now. She noticed, jealousy pricking the back of her eyes, that he was spending an inordinate amount of time with the curvy thirteen year old who so spectacularly proved her fertility with twins.

As if she was struck with physical pain Sky Eyes wrapped her arms around her midsection and climbed to the roof of their pueblo. Gazing out at the rising sun she continued to think about her life, the gods, she wondered why she was created the way she was. She hated being different, it made her miserable, she knew what every one thought about her, what they whispered. She wondered her ultimate fate, what would happen if her husband left, or bought a second wife, when her mother would die, if the rains would come, if the corn would grow.

Sky Eyes did feel a physical pain in her empty body. She wasn't a seer, despite what some people rumored, but she had a feeling, she felt something was coming; something was going to change, soon.

To cheer herself she practiced her bird whistles, she loved birds, and rarely ate them. When she was small she had fantasies of flying, of leaving the earth like a bird or a goddess.

Thinking of birds made her think of that odd shadow. It was the second time she had seen it. She wondered if she tell anyone, the elders or her mothers at least. She thought against it, whatever this was, this strange bird was better off as a secret. A secret that would unwrap itself slowly. A delicious secret.

"I'm going to tell you a story."

Sky Eyes immediately straightened herself and then sat completely still, listening.

"This is the story of your ancestors," her mother said, combing her hair, "you have some what different ancestors than everybody else, maybe that's why-" her mother abruptly stopped, Sky Eyes gave a sad smile.

"A long time ago, generations and generations ago, pale gods came from the east, sons of the moon goddess." Sky Eyes knew this story but she kept silent. Her mother continued "These gods were fierce, they rode on dragons across a body of water so vast no man could ever hope to swim across it."

"These gods attacked people, the raided villages, took the women captive; they fathered god-children who looked like them. They had shells and weapons that smashed stone and glinted in the sun. However over time these gods lost their power, they disappeared, back into the sea, some said because of a great freeze. But their children remained, spread across the land, everywhere. You know where you great-grandfather came from Sky Eyes? He was a tall man. He came from another tribe in the east very far away." He mother sighed and finished combing out her daughter hair, checking for nits.

"When you were born we were over joyed, I lost three children before you. I wasn't disappointed you were a girl, I knew you were a blessing." Her mother began braiding, despite hearing these stories many times before Sky Eyes still waited with breathless anticipation. "The midwife, that idiot saw your face and screamed, wailing about curses and witches, I rose up from my birthing mat and slapped the stupid woman, then I demanded to see my daughter." Sky Eyes hid a smile, from birth her mother was her only defender.

"Of course I was shocked when I saw you, who wouldn't be? But" she added, "I saw it as a mark of specialty. You are special Sky Eyes." Sky Eyes said nothing.

"Some people thought you were blind at first, but when you grew I saw that your eyes were completely clear, and beautiful." Her mother sighed, "so many people were alarmed by you, I still don't know why, they call you a witch, cursed, but I have never seen you do an evil thing in your life."

Sky Eyes kneeled down in front of the tightly woven water basket, gazing at her reflection, looking at her braids. Her mother resumed "you are special Sky Eyes, touched by the gods." Sky Eyes looked at the reflection in her face looked into her own eyes.

"And with the gods is your destiny," her mother promised. The woman kept looking at her own eyes, different from everybody else's. Her tribe, every tribe, every person, dark eyes, dark skin dark hair. She looked like them. Except her eyes were blue.

_And I'm hated for it. _She thought bitterly.

There was a huge commotion. Sky Eyes quickly ran towards the gathering crowd. There were screams shouts, wails of grief. She ignored the hiss of _"witch!"_ it was from a boy. Too young to know any better.

A knot was forming in her stomach, she tried to peer over the crowd, the wailing was coming from one woman, the chief was shouting orders, people were howling in shock and disgust. The person in front of her, looking sick, Sky Eyes stepped forward, and immediately stepped back.

It was a man, or used to be a man. He had been completely destroyed, she gaped in shock, not even a cougar mauling could do that…

His terrified blood stained companion could only babble. They tried to speak to him ask him hat happened, but he was too deep in shock, Sky Eyes could smell urine.

Murmuring began, "It was a god, it was a demon, maybe it was witchcraft…"

Using her well honed skill of disappearing when something bad happened, Sky Eyes melted quietly away.

Sky Eyes was weaving. There was a big communal sewing and weaving circle. Sky Eyes wasn't invited, and she wasn't really part of the circle

Still she worked, and she sat near enough them to listen to their songs, stories and gossip. Even though she didn't speak she could pretend to be a part of them.

Invariably the women turned their conversation to the recent killing. They analyzed every detail. It was a whole hunting party that went missing, the sole terrified survivor brought back some of the remains of his brother. Struck dumb by terror he was now resting, soon he would give his account to the elders. The whole pueblo was rife with rumor and speculation.

"The Oldest One, my grandmother, told me it was a demon." A young woman nursing an infant said matter-of-factly. "The demon who returns in the spring, when the corn is full."

Another woman cut in, "How can that be? The only person who died when the corn was full last year was a still born infant. Where was the demon then?"

The younger woman answered, "The Oldest One told me, 'this demon only returns very briefly and after many years, he selects his chosen few and drags them to the underworld, nothing can stop him in getting what he wants.' She also claims to see him return at least two other times."

The other women made various noises at that, a few concern lines etched into their faces, some of them held their children closer. The Oldest One's granddaughter did too.

Sky Eyes felt a twinge of envy as she gazed at the fat happy baby, suckling contentedly. She felt empty…

The Oldest One's granddaughter caught her looking, she gazed directly into Sky Eyes pale blue irises. The woman blushed and focused on her weaving. The nursing mother shuddered and looked away.

"How is the widow doing?" asked another woman, to Sky Eyes relief.

"Hysterical." replied another "they had to wrap her up and carry her home she was crying so hard." She sighed. "They were quite fond of each other, it's a shame her last image of him was _that_." Everybody nodded grimly; the whole pueblo had seen the corpse.

As the day wore on Sky Eyes finished her weaving, producing several fine baskets for use or trade. She started yawning, wondering whether she should finish one more or return to her pueblo. The circle of women had broken up and started to drift apart. She decided to return to her pueblo, her mother probably missed her.

Practicing her bird whistles she gathered her baskets and stacked them carefully, balancing some on her head. She failed to notice the women glaring at her, or the woman running to her until she slammed into her. Sky Eyes gasped in surprise and dropped her goods she would have begun yelling if the woman didn't start screaming first.

"HE TOOK MY SON, HE TOOK HIM!" she was wailing. She beat the ground with her fists, stirred up the dirt violently and yanked out her hair. The other women began to gather. Sky Eyes sat there in shock.

The woman was sobbing; "the demon took him" was all she could say she began the grief chant, the death chant, shrieking it as though she wore in agony.

Sky Eyes quietly gathered her falling baskets, her mind screaming at her to retreat, but she stayed and listened.

"How that can be, you were indoors…in your home" on woman asked, at those words a slow chill came thought the women, and the men who were gathering. Soon it seemed like the whole tribe had congregated, drawn to the screaming tragedy, as humans always are.

The grieving mother choked out her story. She walked in to find the demon holding her squirming son; she screamed and tried to fight it off. It looked at her with eyes of fire, and jumped out the window, her son still in its arms. Sky Eyes suddenly remembered who this woman was; her son had called her a witch.

"You must be mistaken." One man stubbornly insisted. "Nothing has gotten into the Pueblo since our ancestors built it" The woman turned on him in a rage.

Sky Eyes considered, feeling frightened. If this demon god can get into a pueblo, her pueblo, ANY pueblo, it seemed no where was safe.

Soon an argument was breaking out. "Maybe this demon could scale walls, appear at will" Sky Eyes shook her head, thinking of the shadow.

"He can fly." She said quietly but instantly drawing everybody's attention. "He has wings, like a bird." She spoke with absolute certainty.

Later on the way home the widow struck her across the face, hissing "witch"

Sky Eyes stayed inside her pueblo all day. She told her mother she was sick, which might explain the rolling feeling in her stomach. A sense of inevitability was dawning on her.

To her surprise her husband had returned last night. She immediately made him something to eat. She hoped he had a present for her, dried deer meat was her favorite, but he had nothing and he ate in silence. He seemed to be gathering his courage.

Sky Eyes sat patiently, with her head down, waiting. Finally her husband spoke:

"How did you know the demon can fly?" he demanded.

Sky Eyes looked surprised. "I-I saw him" she admitted, although that wasn't exactly truthful.

Her husbands eyebrows flew up his face, "when did you see him?!" he demanded again.

Sky Eyes was beginning to feel even more nervous. "Well I didn't actually see him" she stammered "but I saw his shadow as Grandfather Sun was rising." She looked dreamy, "He can out fly an eagle!"

Her husband licked his lips looking horrified and nervous, he finally blurted out "You spoke to this demon?" Sky Eyes was shocked, "no, no I just saw his shadow!" she insisted.

Her husband jumped up unconvinced, "Do you know what they say?! What they say about you?!" Sky Eyes felt tears burn her; she lowered her head in shame. Her husband began shouting, "Is it true?! Is it true?!"

Sky Eyes broke. "No it's not true!" she screamed. "They've been saying that all my life! IT'S. NOT. TRUE!" she broke down into sobs.

Her husband looked down at her coldly. "That's not all what they say-"

For the first time ever, Sky Eyes interrupted him, "Who cares what they say?" she screamed in fear, "they've been 'saying it' since I was born! Since you married me!" she glared at him, letting that accusation go by silently. But her anger abruptly ceased, as it always did, "please," she begged still kneeling, "you're my husband, I-"

"I wouldn't have been if I had known you were a barren woman!" he spat bitterly.

Sky Eyes twisted in agony, shame and grief flooding her, she whimpered: "please, please," she cried, "It's not too late," she began begging again "we can still try; there's still-"Her husband abruptly, angrily turned around and stomped out of the dwelling. Sky Eyes cried the whole night, knowing he wasn't coming back.

She cried, then slept when she awoke she realized how foolish she had been. When she awoke she jerked in terror, gazing out the window, realizing she should have kept a vigil against the demon with wings. Thankfully her mother was still there, sleeping peacefully.

The outcast rubbed the sleep from her eyes, yawning. Still keeping an eye on the brilliant blue sky outside she tidied up, the pueblo was messy. She found some cold corn cakes and acorn bread for breakfast and gently set them next to her mother.

Sky Eyes lit the kiva and using a knife made of yucca fibers, flayed and de-kernelled the corn. She gave the customary chant to the Corn Mother but her mind was elsewhere. She thought of the demon, of the Pueblo, how he penetrated their defenses with ease. A husband that won't come back, what would she do? This was his home, she brought her mother here when she married him, and no other man would have her. Everybody knew she was barren.

It was a fairly good match. They worried her oddness would prevent her from ever marrying. She reflected, if it wasn't for her oddness she might have been accepted, happy. If her eyes were normal her lack of fertility could be tolerated, or the other way around, but now it seemed the whole world hated Sky Eyes. She did not go out to pick the fresh corn, or trade for her baskets. For some reason she clutched her yucca knife tightly. She did not look at the window but at the door. Her mother didn't stir.

Quietly, without tears she began praying. To Spider Woman who helped create mankind, the Moon Goddess who was her ancestor, Grandfather Sun and Grandmother Earth, to the god of the dead, she begged him not to take her to his kingdom, to Coyote and Raven, because she needed cleverness, even to the vengeful corn god who rose and died and wreaked havoc upon mankind.

They came much later; Sky Eyes was shivering in fear. Realizing she was still clutching the knife she hid carefully in the roll of her shift. She wrapped her arms around herself. Crying.

They dragged her out screaming. Too cowardly to confront her on their own they became a mob, the whole tribe! They grabbed her; hit her with sticks, spat on her. Their cries of "witch, witch!" ringing in her ears.

The accusations were to numerous and ridiculous to counter effectively. The Widow and Brother accused her of killing and mutilating that man. The Mother claimed she had snatched her son, The Oldest One's granddaughter accused her of cursing her baby, and she showed the crowd an infant red and deathly still with fever. The all lobbed accusations of misfortune and death upon her.

Sky Eyes, disheveled and bleeding and dirty said nothing, just whimpered.

There was a slightly more formal hearing. The elders heard the accusations, Sky Eyes bound and trembling before them.

One older woman claimed she saw Sky Eyes throw on a Coyote pelt and become one, as witches are know to do. She protested that she merely killed the coyote and displayed its skin as a warning to others. The crowd hissed at her in disgust. The litany continued, it was becoming drier because of her, there was less corn, less game, their good hunters were being killed, she had consorted with the demon, caused miscarriages, encouraged enemy tribes, refused to give her husband children, her unnatural eyes had put curses on all those who looked at them.

Every time she had protested, tried to defend herself the accusations were simply piled on, by the end she was helpless, screaming or crying in anger pounding the ground in frustration. It didn't matter how unreasonable their accusations were, it all boiled down to being different. As the crowd gradually quieted the elders debated on a punishment.

_Exile_, Sky Eyes begged silently, even though she knew she was innocent.

More voices shouted out, death! Torture! The window she screamed that what was done to her husband should be done to her. Sky Eyes paled at the memory of that corpse, she screamed back that it wasn't her it was the demon, the crowed shout back: who controlled the demon? She screamed her innocence once more.

"You sit in the demons shadow, under his wings" an elder insisted. "You encourage him to-" "No" a voice interrupted.

There were collective gasps at the rudeness of this behavior. Every turned to see the Oldest One, being carried on the back of one her grandsons.

The crowd felt mixed, she had interrupted their bloodlust, but she was the eldest and wisest of the tribe, even if she was so weak she barely left her pueblo anymore.

"The demon is not controlled by this woman." She patiently explained. "No more than the rain is caused by a bird, this demon; I should say god," she sighed, "appears after twenty three springs, for one moon. He comes whether there are witches or not." She finished and sat patiently on the floor.

The crowd seemed stunned. The elders were silent. Sky Eyes could feel the beginning of a throbbing relief in her head.

"Nevertheless" an elder continued, "this de-god is terrible luck, and particularly vengeful, our tribe is shrinking, and his slayings are not helping. She is a barren witch who curses us with bad luck. I-"

The Oldest One interrupted, "This vengeful god is bad luck, "she agreed, "but so is a drought, which comes on its own, in cycles, just like him." She insisted. "Sky Eyes is no more responsible for this god's appearance than she is for the sunrise."

Embolden by her defender Sky Eyes begged her wisdom would get her though this. "Oldest One, "she begged, "you know the legends, the ones my mother tell, they say my ancestors were those pale gods, from the east." She felt like fainting. "Please Oldest One you know I'm not a witch! I'm just, I'm just-different." She concluded lamely.

_Please argue in favor of me_. She thought desperately.

Now all eyes turned to the Oldest One, waiting for her response.

Before she could say or do anything however a voice jeered out.

"Oldest One!" cried the Widow, "you memory is long, tell us what happened to Sky Eyes father!"

Sky Eyes looked nervously, the Oldest One licked her cracked lips. She whispered, reluctantly, "He was killed."

The Widow didn't stop prodding, "by?" she demanded. "it was shortly after she was born wasn't it?"

The Old One kept her face blank, "by this god."

There was roar at those words. Accusations flew thick again, the elders screamed for silence.

The Brother of the dead man pushed forward. "Elders please let me speak!" he begged. They granted him permission, reluctantly.

He paced in front of Sky Eyes, who glared at him; he shuddered but began to argue.

"What the Oldest One says is true, the demon, I mean god, has come before, and probably will come again," the crowd shivered collectively, "he is, I can attest to this myself, a force of nature," he looked sad, "nothing can stop him, I've fought him, begged him, even offered myself to him," he shook his head, "he still killed my brother. Horribly"

The Widow began wailing, for one moment, Sky Eyes felt pity for them. Then the Brother continued.

"Although she does not control the demon god, her evil bring illness and misery to us, there is no doubt about that," he nodded to The Oldest One's granddaughter, "and although gods cant be controlled they can be influenced, we do it all the time, with prayer and sacrifice, this makes them happy," there were nods all around, "but she", he pointed to the trembling woman, "angers them. She draws bad gods to our tribe and may cause good ones, like the rain gods, to fly away. When her father rejected her he was killed, when her boy," he gestured to the grieving mother, "called her a witch he was killed. This demon-god is outraged our tribe harbors a witch, and his anger is great."

Sky Eyes stood still, waiting for the last blow.

"What are you demanding?" asked the Oldest One, the Brother gave a small respectful bow before her.

"She claims her ancestors are those violent gods who were light as moon beams." He said. "If her ancestry is truly divine, why not give her back to the gods?" he asked. He then turned to Sky Eyes and gave her a mocking bow.

The crowd looked puzzled; the elders demanded what he meant. He grinned savagely, "Sacrifice her," he ordered, "Give her to the demon god."

She felt thirsty, but she couldn't ask for water around the gag in her mouth.

She was being marched, her hands were tied behind her back, one of the warriors had a rope around her neck. Several others and an elder escorted her; one carried a long pole sharpened at one end.

She was gagged because they were afraid, when they pronounced her sentence she convulsed, she didn't really remember it but she was screaming, cursing them with a voice like death.

She cursed them to the grim underworld; she cursed them all to enemy tribes, to a horrible death, to be eaten, to be cannibalized, to be struck by lightning, for the Pueblo to turn to rubble. She cursed her cowardly husband, too afraid to even defend her at her trial, to impotence. She screamed their babies would fall out dead, that their tribe be exterminated; they would fall so low that not even the vultures would pick at them.

She heard shocked gasps, the Elders had all gone pale; the men grabbed her and stuffed the gag into her mouth. She fainted after that.

The Brother assured the others that once she was dead, her evil purified by the god, this curse would disappear. There was still fearful muttering. A witch's curse was a terrible thing.

Now she was gagged, dehydrated, being forced to march miles safely away from the Pueblo to be fed to a hideous god.

Her stomach rolled, she prayed to him, begging it would be quick. She looked for his shadow.

Around midday she was drenched in sweat, she was forced off the mesa and into some rolling plains below, the elder ordered a halt.

"Here." he ordered, and the warriors immediately dug a small pit, when that was done, they carefully lowered the pole, sharpened end first, into the ground. Then they buried it.

Sky Eyes was pulled harshly up from the ground, her ropes used to tie her to the stake, and then they all promptly retreated. Sky Eyes wondered _why here?_ Then she noticed the dark stains on the ground. She let out a low moan through her gag. This is were the massacre took place

The heat continued to grow worse; she thought she might faint again. The world grew blurry. She began to welcomed death at the hands of this god, it might even be quick.

_And with the gods is your destiny_ her mother's words proved to be more prophetic than she realized.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Mother of God this was a long-ass chapter! I'm gonna have to take a long-ass break. And a cold shower. Enjoy.

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Sky Eyes jerked awake.

The dry feeling in her mouth was still there, but it no longer burned, it was just a dried out cottony feeling. Using her lips and tongue she tried to work off the gag, it was feeling looser. She tested her wrists against her bonds and was rewarded with muscle pain.

Straightening herself she looked cautiously around, no sign of the god, or anything else for that matter. Squinting, she observed the sky, no god there either; Grandfather Sun's position told her it was well beyond midday.

Sighing she continued to push off the gag and leaned back onto her stake. Her sweat was starting to cool.

_I have to escape_, she thought dizzily, and tried to reason, if the god didn't get her thirst, or hunger or wild beasts or enemy tribesmen would. She tugged at her wrists. Still tight. She could move about somewhat around the stake, even bend her knees and sit down, but she was stuck to it. She tried wiggling the pole, maybe if given enough time-days- she might have been able to shake it loose, but she didn't have that time. She continued struggling.

With a shake of her head she managed finally toss off the gag, it hung limply around her neck.

Sky Eyes looked around once more, an odd feeling of being watched coming over her. She began to tug more desperately on the ropes.

In what seemed like a great deal of time later, she began panicking, it was not yet night, but the barest hint of dimness was beginning to fall across the land. Soon she would be trapped and blind, she tried calling out.

She made the noise of a woman in distress, it was enormously risky but in her desperation she figured anything was better than this. Even if she attracted a hungry god or animal, death was preferable to waiting.

Still giving a high pitched wail she heard it, a soft subtle sound. She stopped and gasped, but heard nothing, she began crying again. The unfortunate woman struggled not to let tears fall down, knowing I would only exacerbate her dehydration.

When she heard the noise again she was able to pinpoint the sound, it was behind her, a thrill of dread running through she turned around. She saw nothing, she decided to use words.

"Please," she begged, "if you are a man or a god or a demon or even an animal please untie me, or at the very least kill me to set me free. Please." she whimpered.

She heard it again, a soft peal of laughter.

Instantly she knew what it was. Cheeks burning she cursed the warriors who must have remained, for what she didn't know, probably to insure she died properly. Any noise immediately ceased.

Sighing once more, she leaned back onto the stake and eased herself to the ground. Her mind was oddly blank and calm now, waiting for slaughter, excepting the inevitable. She continued to flex her wrists and shut her eyes.

A shadow passed swiftly over her…

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The "god" hadn't been to this spot in days, he saw little need for it. He had slaughtered a hunting party, they never saw him coming. He left one man alive; whom he could clearly smell was related to one of his other victims. The man held out his hands in a supplicating gesture and babbled something. The "god" ignored him, satisfied with is prey.

He very much doubted he would find anything here again, the blood from his last hunt was still there for humans to see, however he wanted to sniff around those cliff houses again. He heard it before he saw, or even smelled it. It was the noise of an animal in distress, he could smell human.

Now excited and drawn irresistibly towards Sky Eyes like a moth to a flame he saw an odd sight. A woman was tied to a long skinny stick in the ground; she was the one who was crying, now apparently done. She closed her eyes and leaned back on her pole, her wrists still struggling. He could easily see from his vantage point other humans who THOUGHT they were hiding, a group of young men and an old one. They kept their eyes steadily on the woman.

The monster did a quick mental assessment. No, there was nothing like this in his memory, very rarely he saw animals tied up then killed in an apparent religious rite. He only saw humans tied up when they were war captives, tied up and marched off to be slaves, but never to a stick, just left there. Waiting.

Then he had a flash of insight: Of course! This must be some sort of trap, a silly one, but a trap none the less. He goes for the helpless tied up human; the others jump out and try to kill him. He smirked.

Circling around once more he planned based on smell, the men, some of them at least were definitely prey, no doubt about that. One was really too old to use, the woman, well she smelled interesting, definitely worth checking out. He would do the bait last, she wasn't going anywhere.

Her blue eyes snapped open, awoken by the terrible screams, twisting around she could clearly see the source. The warriors had abandoned their hideout, running around like frightened birds. Wondering what was happening she quickly stood up.

It would have been funny if it wasn't so horrifying, although she couldn't quite see what was happening, she stood on her toes, the screams were starting to infect her with fear. She could now hear wails of pain also.

It was a man, biggest she had ever seen, he was wearing rags, he was chasing the warriors, killing them- no

Men don't have wings; his was still half opened as he killed lazily, Sky Eyes subconsciously tugged on her ropes. She saw his face, his face was opening.

_Nooooooo,_ she wailed silently, _it's the god!_ Changing her mind instantly she began to struggle. _No, no please don't kill me, god_.

It was as useless attempt as her previous ones, in her haze of panic she nearly strangled herself on the rope trying to get away. She saw men being killed, some trying to run others trying to fight, both were proving useless.

She saw the hateful old elder, the part of the group that wanted to kill her, kneel and plea to the god. He casually knocked him out of the way.

Sky Eyes might have given up then, fainted, when she felt something sharp jabbed into her belly.

The yucca knife! She had forgotten about it, it was still hidden in the fold of her dress. It would easily cut through rope; it was almost sharp as stone. She quickly realized her limits; she couldn't just reach in and grab it she decided to shake her dress loose.

It came out easily falling to the ground. She squatted and tried to grab it blindly. In her panic she dropped it twice. Near tears she managed it on the third time and immediately began sawing herself loose. She could hear the screams of the dying, smell their blood.

Awkwardly she jumped up, she only needed to really cut halfway, with the strength born of fear she broke free on her own. She began to desperately kick and toss off the remaining bits of rope.

Involuntarily she turned around. She wanted to scream, it was horrid, and the god was winding down its massacre. Unexpectedly he shot a look to her, and then literally did a double take, staring straight into her eyes. She could only look back in paralyzed horror. Mouth open and still dripping with blood he started towards her.

Sky Eyes snapped out of her frozen shock, running for her life in the opposite direction. She didn't look back; sure the demon-god was right on her heels. Her heart was going to explode and her lungs were on fire.

Then-"Ahhhhhggg!" she screamed and something slammed into her. It was one of the few remaining warriors, his eyes were wild and he kept knocking into her in panic, impeding her progress! The demon was right behind her!

In a blind rage Sky Eyes lashed out, catching the idiot in the mouth with the yucca knife. Now his eyes bulged at her, staring with blank horror into her icy blue ones. "Son of a Whore!" she screamed/cursed at him, before ripping the knife through his cheek. He screamed and fell before her. She stepped over his body and ran, and kept running. She didn't look back, she didn't know if the demon-god got the young man. She didn't care.

She didn't stop running until she came to a stream.

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Sky Eyes collapsed to the ground. For a moment too tired to even think, then she immediately looked behind her, no vengeful god howling for her blood. She looked all around, even checked the sky for good measure. She had escaped…

She immediately fell into the stream, drinking greedily, never having been so thirsty in her life. She drank till the burning was gone, only pausing to pant in exhaustion. She drank till her stomach felt like a ripe gourd melon, nearly bursting.

The woman got up, and panted slowly, then immediately looked around again, she wanted nothing more than to rest, just lay down and sleep, but she knew she couldn't. Despite the calm she knew he could be lurking, hungry for her flesh. Setting off on a jog she continued to run.

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The monster was torn.

So hungry and this tasty little morsel was right in front of him. He was curled up in shock and fear. Felled by that woman.

He had ignored her, saved her last thinking she couldn't run, then he saw her loose. Then he had to stop stare in surprise. The woman was staring back at him with wide fearful eyes, in a color he neversaw before!

He had to get closer, had to examine her more minutely. Maybe even use the unusual eyes.

Predictably she bolted, ran in a completely opposite direction. No problem, he set off after her. Then he saw her confront, fight another human, she had stabbed him. It wasn't a deep would but he fell to the ground in terror, not used to dealing with vengeful gods and witches curses. He was positive this was the end, too scared to move.

Now the monster stood before the callow youth, debating if he should eat and store the corpses in his lair, or chase after the fleeing woman. The man at his feet was babbling, praying to the angry god. He felt a twinge of hunger. He could always pick her scent and catch her later.

Sky Eyes was sure it was a scream. A distant horrible one. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed forward.

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All she could do now was hide.

She was by a small creek, in a small niche in the rock. It wasn't a proper cave, but it was far better than nothing.

Despite her fatigue she had constructed a very crude lean-to. She drank from the creek. She managed to shove down a few sour sumac berries she knew were edible. She thought about building a fire, but there was no time to gather wood and tinder before the sun fell, and she had no fire-rocks with her. Besides it might attract the god.

Sky Eyes whimpered and cowered in her rude shelter, clutching the yucca knife, reliving the horrible things she had seen. She thanked Grandmother Earth for the haven, poor as it was, she prayed to all the gods in thanks and pleas, except one. She didn't want her prayers to draw him too her.

Predictably the woman didn't sleep, having never faced the total darkness alone. She heard coyotes howling and thought she heard an owl hoot. That was a bad omen. So she began to think, weigh her options, she had absolutely no place to go. The tribe she was born into grudgingly tolerated her, but now the whispers that had surrounded her all her life had boiled up into angry shouts, nearly killing her.

She couldn't help but cry when she realized she was cut off from her mothers forever. Her birth mother and the Corn Mother.

She couldn't hunt, she could only get corn if she raided someone else's fields, and that could get her killed. _Maybe another tribe could take me in_, intertribal adoption wasn't unheard of, but that was risky too, they might decide to kill her outright if not for her old tribe affiliation then for her oddness. And even if they did she wouldn't be useful as a wife because she was barren, she would be an outcast in that society too, little more than a slave.

Squeezing out a last few tears she curled up for warmth, chanting silently to Moon Goddess, begging her pale ancestor for protection.

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When she awoke again it was already morning, she gave another quick scan, offered her usual prayer to Grandfather Sun and took a quick dip into the creek. She did not take off her dress, she felt vulnerable enough without being naked.

The only pause in her day was when she grabbed nearby river rushes to weave a crude but functional basket. She filled it with the rest of the berries, two fire stones she found up stream and her yucca knife. She thanked Spider Woman silently.

As she walked on she realized what being cut off from the Pueblo rally meant, there was no signing, laughing, gossip no human voices at all. There was no corn she could lazily pick and eat. She was completely alone, only relying on herself. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. After a while she enjoyed it, no hostile stares or accusations anymore.

_It's still so dangerous though_; there was the god, wild animals, and enemy tribes. If those didn't get her she could fall to starvation, or disease, or even a simple accident. No one would be there to help her. Still she continued to push on.

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Later she rested.

It wasn't dark yet, but she could see it was getting there. She rested by a pond, drank and washed the dirt and sweat from herself.

Sky Eyes was in good spirits, no sign of the demon, or anything else harmful: no people, no predators. She once saw a bobcat slink shyly away in the bushes; she knew she was too big and healthy and strong for it. She felt elated.

She ate some her berries, wondering what else she would find for food. The woman had seen acorns, but she had no proper way of preparing them. Then she saw the glint of small silver fish, resting in her shadow. She laughed in delight.

Sky Eyes stared, wondering if she could possibly catch one, she stuck her hand into the pool. Instantly in a silver cloud they darted away. She felt disappointed, but something about what her husband mentioned came back to her, you had to be still.

She stopped her hand from moving. Sure enough the fish came darting cautiously back, she tried to grab one, her hand was slow the fish were not. Twice more she tried this, and then gave it up as foolish. She never heard of anybody catching fish with bare hands, it was impossible. Regretfully she turned to her basket.

Her basket…she stared at it. It was not water proof, it was far to hastily made for that, it had lots of small holes, almost like a net, she considered.

Carefully removing everything and setting it on a flat rock she dipped the basket into the pool, the fish darted away, and then casually swam toward it again. Already they forgot it was there. Then to her surprise some fish swam into it! She saw a berry was left inside, lodged in one of the small cracks of the basket. Some fish began to nibble curiously on it.

Jerking her arm up she yanked on the basket, tugging it with all her might, the water made it heavy, fish began to dart out in panic. Some were small enough to swim through it. They practically flew out. One fish was too big and too slow.

Sky Eyes shrieked in triumph. She did it! Sky Eyes the mighty hunter! She gigged at that silly thought, delighted with herself, proud. The fish flopped helplessly, she smashed it with rock.

It gaped at her with sad stupid eyes; she felt a twinge of pity. She thanked the fish's spirit for its sacrifice and once again thanked Spider Woman for teaching women to weave. Then using her yucca knife she cleaned and gutted it.

She held the gutted fish in her hand, should she risk a fire? Or choke it down raw? She scanned the sky. No sign of the demon god all day, maybe she lost him. Inhaling deeply she gathered some tinder and a few scraps of wood. It would be a small fire. She struck her fire stones.

The smell of sizzling fish was wonderful. It wasn't that big, about the size of her hand but it cooked quickly and tasted delicious. She loved the fish eyes and greedily sucked them out.

When she was done she curled up and sighed, a nice warm full feeling emanating from her belly. She found no shelter, _I should keep the fire going_… but she felt tired, almost lazy, she yawned, the sun was beginning to set. Reluctantly getting up and stretching, Sky Eyes began to hunt for more wood.

A small shadow flickered distantly.

Sky Eyes reacted with instant instinctive terror. Turning around swiftly as the bobcat she scanned all horizons, maybe it was nothing, just a bird, then she saw it.

It was in the west flying rapidly, maybe it _was _just the bird, but it circled closer. It was the demon god, spiraling in circles. Dropping lower then shooting upward. He looked like a vulture, her stomach twisted around the fish. She wondered if, like a vulture, he was looking for carrion. He wheeled in a wide arc, circled lazily and came closer. She thought she could almost see his eyes on the ground, looking, searching, searching for her!

Sky Eyes reacted in a swift panic, she ran, then remembered her belongings; she tried to run again but remembered the fire. Fortunately she was clear headed not to throw water on it. Water made steam. She scooped shovels of Earth onto it, blessing herself for making it so small.

She ran, Grandfather Sun's rays made his shadow appear longer than it already was. It stretched across the Earth, spurring her on faster.

She ran, already tired, not knowing where she was going.

She ran stumbling along until she saw a briar bush.

Sky Eyes stopped, panicked. Then dithered slightly on the spot, she could keep running or-

A childhood story came back to her; she could hear her mother's voice, the clever rabbit who outwitted the coyote by hiding in the thorn bush. She decided, as long as her clothes or hair didn't get stuck.

Cautiously inching her way in she squeezed underneath the bush, brushing aside the thorns that caught in her skin. Thankfully there was a small opening she could squeeze into, if she made herself very small.

Sky Eyes cowered in the bush, hoping to stay hidden. She thought she saw his shadow once or twice…

Fortunately she was not found. But unavoidably she could not sleep either, any small movement poked her skin, and as it grew dark every shadow and noise seemed to be him. She closed her eyes and tried not to whimper.

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So there was no warm fire, or feeling of safety. She couldn't leave her thorn haven for anything, not even to relieve herself. Whatever sleep she could manage was just so filled with nightmares that it seemed little different than reality, she couldn't even scream.

At least the moon was waxing, the moon goddess shined benevolent light upon her descendent, although she thought she saw, or dreamed a shadow occasionally flitting across her face.

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Sky Eyes wasn't even sure if she was awake.

Her eyes seemed half opened already her whole body was so stiff even unclenching her hands was an effort. Her first coherent thought was wondering why he was tormenting her. She tried to sit up, and then was reminded of the thorns. _Stupid_ she said sleepily to herself and untangled her hair. The bush trembled.

She paused, wondering if she was being irrational, it was probably just her, but with the hideous god demon nothing was certain. She forced herself to sit completely still, more still than she thought possible. She heard nothing unusual.

So slow it was agonizing she made her way out of the thorn bush, scratching herself every inch she crawled. She was filthy; she reeked of dirt and urine. She clutched her basket and yucca knife. The whole process made slower by her desire to look and listen. Sky Eyes saw or heard nothing unusual. Torn, that's how she felt, literally and figuratively, she wanted to run but ease out cautiously. Her skin was scratched up.

When she finally did get out she did not run, she walked quickly and carefully, keeping low, maybe the demon wouldn't see her from the air.

The woman pushed herself farther, harder than yesterday. She had gotten lazy, she had been imprudent. Sky Eyes knew the demon was much faster than her, she remembered his massive wings. She had to keep going, go farther and faster than ever before, in the slim hope she could shake him.

She only paused to wade across another pond, drinking then washing the filth off. Looking ruefully at the fish she regretted not having the time to catch one. Instead she stuffed a handful of berries into her mouth and continued onward. She hoped the water washed away her scent. It cooled her from the burning sun, she did not mind. She thanked Grandfather Sun; he had warned her about the demon, exaggerating his shadow so she could see him.

Sky Eyes continued on, jumping at any unexpected movement and continuously scanning the sky. She had no idea where she was going.

When she had time to think she thought of heading south, for some reason the idea vaguely appealed to her. The big gleaming cities and pyramids she was told about, and she remembered a strange southern trader with facial tattoos and a colorful talking bird on his shoulder. He had looked into her eyes and babbled excitedly, with no fear. Maybe she could find acceptance in his tribe, whoever they were.

However the indistinct plan proved difficult to put into practice. She did not travel in a straight line, but constantly zigzagged, dodging boulders and arroyos and other natural formations. When the day was once again was ending she realized she was heading east, the sun was behind her back.

_I'm going home_, she thought dizzily. She had the weird idea her strange ancestors would greet her in the east. She imagined everybody had blue eyes there.

The hunger was almost too much. A day's march on nothing but a handful of berries. She felt shaky and almost delirious. She decided to stop, find a safe place and finish off the rest of her berries when she saw it.

It seemed like a shadow at first, which made her instantly wary, but after only a seconds observation she saw smoke, a steady stream rising over a tiny valley.

Smoke meant fire, fire meant people, and maybe people meant food.

Heedless of the danger she immediately ran toward it, dreaming of filling her belly. Of kindness and companionship. Hunger and loneliness had clouded her judgment.

The smoke was rising from a cave, her joy increased, a safe dry place for the night, like a Pueblo. She clambered over boulders and scrabbled up. She peered inside cautiously.

"Hello?" Sky Eyes called out tentatively.

Something burst from the cave, yelling. Sky Eyes screamed and retreated, cowering. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. She stared wide eyed at the cave dweller.

His hair was wild and unkempt, he looked dirty, he smelled dirty, but he looked well fed. Sky Eyes could smell something cooking. It seemed delicious. He barked something at her. It took her a while to understand, his dialect was rough sounding. He told her to go away.

"Please," she said to his retreating back. He ignored her and limped back into his cave. She tried to clear her voice, hoping he could understand her. "Please, I'm very hungry." She begged. She stepped cautiously into the cave.

Something was cooking, rabbit, her mouth watered.

"Please let me have some." She said desperately. He glared at her. She pointed at the roasting rabbit to emphasize her point.

He sneered. "What have you got to trade?" he demanded.

Sky Eyes looked at her basket. He had fire stones; she needed her yucca knife, so she scooped up the last of the berries and offered it to him. With shockingly bad manners he scooped them up and swallowed them whole, without even chewing, _like a duck_ she thought with disgust.

But she was happy, this meant rabbit for dinner, she sat down in exhaustion and began tearing meat off the still hot animal. Her manners just as bad as his.

The strange man stared at her; he gave his sneering smile and spoke again. "You'll starve to death." She blinked and looked up, not knowing if she heard correctly. "What did you say?" she asked politely, in her clearest voice.

He smirked and gestured to the rabbit, "you only eat that you starve, no matter how much you eat, and I've seen it." He pointed to some roasted quail. Sky Eyes shook her head. "I don't eat birds."

He looked bewildered, "wha-?" he demanded. Sky Eyes shrugged, "I like birds, they're like my relations, so I don't eat them." She paused, "especially quails, they make me laugh." She took another bite of rabbit. The man sneered again and shook his head.

She ate about half the rabbit, feeling wonderfully full, and then gingerly set it back on its stake.

Sky Eyes studied him quietly from a lowered head, as a proper woman should. She got a bad impression. His cave was filthy, he was filthy. He limped around muttering to himself and barking out strange things to her she could barely understand. She looked down and noticed one of his feet was deformed. Club foot.

She wondered how she could stay here. She had nothing else to trade. And she doubted it would be from the kindness of his heart. But she didn't get up and leave. She wondered where the demon was.

Suddenly he was in her face; she smelled rank breath and saw missing teeth. She hastily scrambled back.

"What's wrong with your eyes!?" he demanded in his weird dialect. He even waggled his hand in front of her, as if to test if she was blind.

Sky Eyes drew back in annoyance, and before she could stop herself she demanded "what's wrong with your foot?"

Club Foot's eyes grew wide and owlish, as if shocked. Then they narrowed to slits and he began pacing again muttering angrily.

Sky Eyes mentally kicked herself. She was not endearing herself to this man. The woman sat half in half out of his cave. She sensed something was wrong with him but the sky outside was darkening rapidly, vengeful gods lurked about. And she was tired, and cold. She edged in closer.

"This is my cave, mine." He spat at her. "Ever since exile it's been mine." He sighed bitterly.

Sky Eyes instantly perked up. He must have seen the sympathy on her face, he continued. "I am a great hunter, no one is better than me with a sling, with a net, with a snare. My father is a chief, I come from the oldest line of hunters and warriors and leaders." He boasted to the stranger. The woman digested this, thinking. He was obviously good enough to catch all this game, it was probably the only skill he had. With his foot he wouldn't be able to hunt bigger swifter game, let alone fight. His birth must have been a huge disappointment to his family.

He saw her eyeing his deformity and he began cursing her angrily. She averted her eyes and looked into his. He was pulling at his hair and muttering. She voiced a question cautiously. "You've been alone along time haven't you?" He ignored her.

Sky Eyes edged in closer, and tried to establish a bond with him, hopefully he would allow her to stay for at least the night. "I've been exiled too," she said in her clear voice. She gestured to her unusual eyes. "Maybe we can be friends?" she added hopefully.

Club Foot just sneered again.

Sky Eyes found him both frightening and odd. It seemed like a spirit possessed him. He often had violent outbursts of temper, with her barely understanding his curses. Every time he did this she would back away, edge out of the cave, and then slowly return when he began to ignore her. It was unnerving and exhausting. She just wanted to sleep, but she didn't know if she was welcome to stay, yet he did not physically attack her or chase her away.

When night was beginning to fall and she was nodding off, Club Foot abruptly turned on the strange woman who attached herself to him.

"What tribe are you?!" he demanded suddenly.

Sky Eyes felt a twinge of dread; and tried to evade the question.

"No tribe," she said simply. "Exile remember?"

He didn't take it. "What tribe before then?!" he demanded, looking at her eyes suspiciously.

The woman steeled herself and gave him their name.

The man screamed the name back at her. Howled it in outrage. Too late Sky Eyes recognized him as an enemy tribe member. Despite his exile status he seemed fiercely parochial. She tried scrambling out of the cave.

He grabbed her and shook her.

"I'm not one of them anymore!" she screamed at the madman.

He threw her disdainfully back in the cave. Sky Eyes inhaled deeply. Despite her fear of him her fear of the demon was greater.

"Please let me stay." She begged. "Let me stay in your cave, I wont be a burden."

"Coward" he spat, "Pueblo dweller." He said this as an insult. He shoved her back again. "What good are you eh? What good are you?!"

Sky Eyes struggled to remain calm. "I-I can, ummmm" she looked around the filthy cave, "clean!" she said. "Cook, um sew, weave." She was becoming more confident. "I make fine baskets, gather more berries, and roots for you." She promised, guessing by the way he had devoured her berries he was starved for something other than game. "I can fish", that was stretching it, but not a lie. "I grind corn."

He exploded again. "No corn!" he gestured to the valley behind him. Sky Eyes reassured him, "I can grow corn too!" she argued.

Club Foot shook his head disdainfully, "Pueblo dweller, no seeds." But he urged, "go on."

Sky Eyes blinked, she was running out of assets to list. So she just pleaded some more. "I'm an exile like you, and outcast." He stepped closer. "I can help you, please." she begged. He closed the distance between them and grabbed her, but not harshly.

The woman closed her eyes as she felt his hands running over her. He was greedy, with no finesse. She guessed it was to be expected, but she hoped she could avoid it. She could live here, tolerate his oddness if he tolerated hers. Indeed she was grateful he didn't just kill her. She thought of her husband, her vows to him, but he had left her, probably remarried already.

So she decided to allow him, she would be fed, and have a fire every night, maybe even protected to a degree. Living as the lonely tribeless wife of an equally lonely crazy outcast. She wondered if she should tell him if she was barren before he started.

However before he could start she heard a familiar noise. She snapped open her eyes and looked behind her. The starlight from the outside was extinguished by the silhouette of a dark figure.

Sky Eyes began to panic, Club Foot was far too preoccupied, he tried to hush her. She managed to choke out a warning.

He saw her disconcerting eyes looking in horror behind him. He tried to turn but was far too slow.

Her screams echoed off and out of the cave. She saw Club Foot being savagely grabbed and pulled away from her, the fire light distorting the already nightmarish vision and the cave exaggerating and echoing their shrieks and snarls.

Sky Eyes felt her knees go weak. Club Foot may have not have been fast but he was strong, still the demon was clearly stronger. He was being ripped apart like a corn husk. Rallying her last shreds of strength and she fled screaming past the horrific fight, she thought she saw the god's head turn, before he re-focused on his still struggling victim.

The terrified woman stumbled, still screaming. She felt her sore body bounce sickeningly on the rocky hill, before sliding down to a stop. She sobbed, and did not move.

_Get up! _She screamed to herself. Her muscles churned; she staggered upward and tried to check behind her. The screams had died down. The god was standing at the mouth of the cave, she couldn't see his face, but she could see his hands. It was a full moon and she saw the light glinting off the blood.

For a moment the two stared at each other, then without waiting to be chased again Sky Eyes promptly turned and ran off hard as she could.

The "god" didn't chase after.

He smiled slowly. He was well fed right now, the sky was clear; the wind blew into his face. The monster sniffed deeply, yes he could smell her, she was still running ahead, very frightened, his smile grew wider.

He had tracked her. It was easy enough, but her scent was getting stale after nearly two days. However he was able to tell by other signs, foot prints, trails, he found her crude little lean-to, smelled it carefully and tossed it away.

The second day he had found where she had slept. He ran his fingers through the ashes of her fire. He could smell cooked fish. Then he tracked her to the thorn bush. Carelessly ripping it up he saw the indentation of where her body was. He could smell her, fear, and dried urine. He carefully sniffed the few strands of her hair remaining in the thorns.

Now he had tracked her to this tiny uninhabited valley. The fact that the area she was wandering in was so sparse of humans had helped. If he understood correctly the people who lived in the cliffs and the people close to them disliked each other. This area was a sort of a no mans land.

He saw/smelled the smoke. Waiting carefully he saw eventually saw the woman leave then return to the cave. Then do this several more times. Finally a man jumped out and shoved her ruthlessly back in.

Mystified, and aided by the darkness, the monster began to explore the cave. He heard noises, they sounded angry. He assumed they were fighting already.

No, _just the opposite_ he mused, but he couldn't THAT tolerate either. He moved toward them sniffing loudly. The woman cried out the man turned. In his homicidal frenzy he noticed her leaving but he focused on his killing. The man fought like a rabid animal, he wasn't worth eating.

Now he stood on the brink watching his quarry slip away. He was well fed, he could smell her. The "god" was slowly drawing to a conclusion. _Maybe she is…_ He wasn't totally sure, but he felt fairly certain.

_Let's play a game._

-------------------------------------------

She was so tired. More than anything she just wanted to lay down and sleep. To give in.

But she knew she couldn't, the god was sure to be after her, but she knew she was reaching her physical limit. Sky Eyes pushed herself further.

Suddenly he was in front of her. Not too close, at a fairly safe distance in fact. He was standing side ways to her, leering.

Instantly she turned and ran again, panicking. She set off in other direction. Away from him, not towards the cave. She shuddered thinking of Club Foot.

She hadn't gone too far when to her shock she saw him in front of her again. He sat casually on a boulder, smiling at her. She fled again.

_Is there more than one?_ The woman thought terrified. That would be the epitome of horror, a group of angry gods. Sky Eyes gasped and slowed _no he's just quick_. That made more sense; she slowed to a walk, checking timidly behind her. He didn't seem interested in chasing her.

Sky Eyes stopped completely, peering out in front of her. Sure enough he was there, but he seemed to be ignoring her. He saw her but he walked away.

She caught her breath, thinking. He was visible in the moon light, his silhouette standing out eerily. A seed of hope took root in her heart, _maybe he doesn't want me_. No, that didn't make sense, why would he chase her all this way then? She shook her head, reaffirming her belief in the incomprehensibility of the gods, but she still had hope. _Maybe he just doesn't want to __**kill **__me_.

Feeling better than she did in days the woman stepped carefully further down the valley. He continued walking around, almost at random. Now very curious, and against her better judgment, she followed him.

The god was still very far away, if her turned on her she would have plenty of time to turn and run, and she knew if she started trying to run in the opposite direction again he would be waiting there. He was a god.

Still, it made her feel uneasy. _He wants me to follow him? Where?_ He was still determinedly ignoring her; she slowed and increased the space between them. The god strode on. Sky Eyes began to wonder why he walked on the ground like a man, why he did horrible things, where the hell he was going.

Quietly and continually checking on his position Sky Eyes fell behind. She was still descending further into the valley, but veering away from him. Hopefully she wouldn't find him waiting.

The monster checked over his shoulder, when he no longer saw her he took to the air. She was trying to escape, and trying to hide, her scent rose up to him. He folded back his wings and dropped. If he landed on her he would have broken her neck. Instead he plummeted to the Earth right next to her.

Sky Eyes screamed and tore off running before she even fully comprehended what was happening. The monster laughed and took the air again.

Now only held together by adrenaline Sky Eyes began to panic again, thinking there really was more than one, or he just appeared wherever he wanted to. She barely had time to wonder this before he came bursting out from he right.

Now completely hysterical she blindly ran to the left.

The monster was enormously happy, not having so much fun in years. He swooped down

to her once again, causing her to stumble forward. She spun around, looking everywhere desperately. Every shadow, every bit of movement could have him. He was everywhere and no where. Her whole body trembled, more than she thought possible, tears poured from her eyes, _he could be anywhere…_

She felt a breath on her shoulder.

The woman twisted around as fast as she could, she only made it half way before she felt a pair of incredibly strong hands grab her. She screamed but was soon brought in close to the demons face. She whimpered. He began sniffing. Now she was just like the other hapless victims. She let loose a stream of worthless pleas, kicking helplessly. He licked her tears away.

Sky Eyes screamed in horror, knowing she was about to be eaten.

The god pulled her to Earth; he smelled her face, neck, breasts, all over. He drew a deep shuddering breath over her lower body. She saw his eyes grow wide; he licked his lips and let out a long sigh, a loud "ahhhhh" sound.

Then he ripped off her deer skin dress. The woman let out a small shriek, more in shock then anything else. The demon licked away at her scraped skin. _I'm gonna die, I'm gonna_ _die_, she thought slamming her eyes shut. She tried to steel herself, hopefully it would be quick.

The demon god plunged his tongue inside of her.

Sky Eyes felt like her eyes would explode out of their sockets. She managed to shakily raise herself up to see if she was hallucinating. There was a god, kneeling patiently on the ground in between her legs, running his tongue over-she blushed. The demon winked at her and continued on.

Her breath was coming up in shallow gasps, not really believing. But something was blossoming inside of her. She felt oddly warm; the demon pulled her legs open wider. Sky Eyes moaned. She began to worry vaguely about those vicious teeth she saw earlier but the physical sensations began to drive all thoughts out.

The tension began to build in her, Sky Eyes began deeper gasps, trying not to moan or scream. The god began to speed up as he lifted her pelvis up slightly, like when her husband drank soup from a bowl. She felt a long tongue withdraw and run over, he found a soft spot in her.

This time Sky Eyes did shriek, unable to control it. The demon-god gently ran his tongue over the minute button that he had nudged out. Sky Eyes screamed again in ecstasy. Now ruthlessly exploiting it he worked even more rapidly. The woman sobbed in complete, wonderful surrender, her body convulsing against her will. The demon god often teased her. Slowing down, then speeding up, playing her as skillfully as an instrument. Sky Eyes prayed it would never end.

Then suddenly she came. Her body convulsed once more, however this was far more powerful. She felt her legs jerk uncontrollably in the god's powerful hands, he buried himself deeper into her. Her body felt like it had come undone as a powerful wave had crashed over her, and she released herself into his mouth. She gasped in shock as much as she did in pleasure.

The god didn't seem to mind; in fact he seemed to become excited. He groaned and pushed his tongue in once more, desperately licking and sucking. As if he loved the taste of her. Sky Eyes simply lay their quietly in shock, enjoying the sensation.

When he was finished he rose up from his position, still running his long tongue over his lips. He leaned forward and hovered over her. He sniffed the air between them, Sky Eyes wondered if she would be killed now.

The god smirked as he looked into her wide eyes. He held her face and twisted it around, observing from every angle. She wondered what was happening, why he was inspecting her. Then she realized, her unusual feature has caught the gaze of the god himself. She looked into his eyes; they were a shade of light brown.

Why couldn't she just be normal? She blushed again and tried to close her lids; the demon let out a harsh call of complaint and shook her head. Sky Eyes opened them again. Now he was just inches away from her studying her closely, she tried not to blink.

He leaned forward and began sniffing, his nose above her right eye. When he was done he moved to her left. _He's smelling my eyes? _The woman was bewildered. He stopped sniffing. Shakily she tried to raise herself.

Instantly the demon was on her again, pushing his weight on her again. She resisted the urge to squirm in discomfort. He was on her, licking her face now. She felt a clawed hand drift lazily from her arm to her breast; she started to struggle for breath again. Seeing this he toyed with it some more. Sky Eyes felt her back arching; his body was rubbing against hers now, mounting her fully.

She wasn't really surprised, she understood what he wanted. She signaled her willingness by pressing more of herself to him. The demon moaned. Sky Eyes smiled.

But the demon also seemed to become agitated, he rubbed against her more, licked her face. Then stopped. Then started again. He finally got off of her, growling in frustration.

The woman felt fear again. She must have done something wrong. Would he be angry, would he kill her?

Abruptly he picked her up; his eyes were wild, lustful. It scared her a little, never having seen anybody look at her like that before. She jumped in surprise as his wings flew open, and gazed in shy astonishment at them, _real wings_. Then he took off.

Sky Eyes screamed as the Earth tilted away dizzily from her. But at the same time she couldn't help but feel elated. _Who wouldn't? Flying!_ She thought in a happy alarm.

Before she could get over excited or frightened however, they arrived at their destination. He had taken her back to the cave. Sky Eyes smile vanished.

Club Foot was still there, but the fire had dimmed. She could still see though. She shook her head and tried to back away. The god pulled her in. He looked greedily at her and rubbed against her some more. She began to feel little afraid again, looking directly at the results of his anger; she prayed this god was not like Spider Woman, she didn't want to be eaten afterwards. Or during.

The demon followed her gaze to the corpse. He grinned, and pushed her down again hovering over her.

She watched in astonishment as the god sniffed the body, and then stuck a hand to it_. I don't like this._ She grew even more uneasy. The god reached down and held a bloody mass, gulping it down. He did this once more. She squirmed away as he grinned at her.

Something was stirring underneath the rags he wore. Sky Eyes knew what, but something was different. In sudden bold curiosity she pushed them aside. He growled as he thought he saw eagerness, but the woman was gaping in shock.

What had once been the unfortunate man's was now his. She watched as it grew swiftly as a vine from a nest of messy white hair. Everything. All of it. Exactly like a man's except it matched the god's odd skin color. Sky Eyes was completely frozen. Staring.

With out hesitation the god mounted her again. She flew to a panic. He growled and pinned her down.

"It's a dead man's!" she screamed in near hysteria while trying to wriggle away. The demon snarled in rage, wrestling with her to hold her still. He continued to smell and lick her passionately. She screamed and tried to fight. The god bit her.

The woman gasped in surprise and pain. It wasn't fatal, or even deep. He ran a tongue over the wound languidly.

_Nothing in my life, in my dreams,_ she thought wildly. _How to deal with...? _He seemed angry at her refusal; _I don't want to be killed. _The woman thought in terror.

She remembered something her mother told her about, something women could do. She told it to Sky Eyes when she married. If her husband ever got angry or even violent there was something she could do that would almost guarantee him to calm down, but she had never done it before. Never needed to.

Slowly, with trembling hands she lifted the god's raggedly loin cloth. Her hand easily found what it was looking for; she wrapped her shaky fingers around him and rubbed gently, gradually. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

The god did not look displeased.

Sky Eyes continued to caress him, growing more confident with each stroke. Teasingly she sped up her movements, and then slowed. Just as the god had done to her. He howled with pleasure. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride, she stroked him faster.

Suddenly he grabbed both her hands and pinned them down. For a moment she was horrified, thinking she had done something wrong. He continued to look at her with a burning hunger. He pushed himself into her.

Sky Eyes inhaled deeply, for a moment trapped in the unrealness of her situation. The moment was shattered by the god's thrusts. She gasped again; he spread his wings and beat them furiously. It reminded her of the frenzy of a bird mounting its mate. The animalistic lust began to stir that wet heat within her again.

He sniffed her again, bending down to smell all across her body. Whatever he smelled began to excite him more. He moaned, then drew a long wet tongue over her skin. Sky Eyes felt her heat throb faster. He then removed his hands from her arms, running them languidly down her body, exploring. Taking note of the reaction he received when he ran them over the soft mounds of her breasts. She felt her flesh rise as his claws scraped gently over them.

Next he lowered his hands down to her legs, scraping his claws lightly over them again. Sky Eyes could feel her muscles tense in excitement again, knowing what would happen next.

The god-demon grabbed her thighs suddenly, lifting her whole lower body up to meet his. He rubbed himself against her tiny pearl again. Sky Eyes could only try to suck in more air, and could only manage an "oh!" of surprise. He grinned, encouraged, and began to plunge himself in more deeply. The woman held onto her god, feeling like she would fly off the face of the Earth.

_Nothing in my life_, she thought dizzily again, pleasure obliterating any coherent thought. The demon continued propelling himself into her with a raw passion she didn't think imaginable. She clung to him more tightly and screamed her pleasure loudly for what seemed the first time in her life.

"Ohhhhh god", she prayed to him. He lifted her body to him once more and she felt the first oncoming wave of pleasure wash over her. She felt her body convulsing, squeezing him eagerly. In response she felt a burning flood her. The god's wings snapped open and beat in another frenzy. _god seed_ she thought in awe as her mind returned to her. He finished with a grunt, and then dived down again. Desperate for the taste he worked so hard for.

Sky Eyes felt him licking her hungrily again. Obviously he didn't mind his own taste either. Another wave of unrealness washed over her. Mating with a god, her old life in the Pueblo seemed years and years ago.

Her body reminded her, none to gently, that she had just spent the last two nights and days in sleepless adrenaline soaked terror. Her arousal settled and her hunger filled she began to rapidly drift off. She thought the demon wanted more, he nuzzled her face and tried to open her unusual eyes. But she was far too gone. A sleep so deep washed over her it almost felt like fainting.

_Sky Eyes was in the land of dreams, the spirit world._

_She saw dead men, the ones the demon killed, but she was not afraid. When they spoke to her their speech was backward._

_The woman looked down, her clothes were so odd. She was wearing heavy furs totally unsuited to her arid region. But this wasn't her land. Huge hairy beasts with long curved tusks roamed the landscape. Cougars with teeth like hunting knives prowled around her. Large deer with no antlers and tails like a woman's hair galloped away._

_It was strange but not frightening._

_Then the flood came. She began to drown._

_She knew this story, her mother told it to her when she was younger. It was when Grandmother Earth was young, and strange beasts roamed over her. The gods sent a flood, and a maiden was trapped in the swirling waters._

_Sky Eyes smiled when she felt a hand lift her up. She sputtered and choked out water but was rescued, just like she knew she would be. She rose from the Earth and was flown away._

_According to the tale, The maiden had caught the eyes of a spirit. He loved her and made her his wife._

_Sky Eyes smiled again. She always loved this story._

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A/N: Ho-ly Crap! 33 Reviews! Do you know what that means? Of course you don't, that's how much Child of the CREEPER got, of course she did it in three chapters, it took me fourteen T.T Anyway in celebration I offer another pic, a scene from Chapter 12 (no not THAT scene) redplanetes sent it to me for my birthday, it's so incredibly, wonderfully supercalifragilistic awesome. Y'all know the drill: review, e-mail and request it.


	16. Chapter 16

The first sensation she felt was cold. The second was happiness.

Sky Eyes felt happiness so intense it was almost unbearable. After her long arduous misery, she was going to live, and had the attentions of a god. Still lying down with her eyes closed she blushed, smiled. Now she knew what everybody went on about. Sky Eyes rubbed her bite wound gently. _Where is he?_

She got up slowly, stiffly. The cold had seeped into her body, and she was sore in places she never knew she had. She blushed again. The fire was dead. Prodding the hearth she found only a few weakly glowing embers. Yawning she looked at the sky, it was an overcast morning. Having her clothes in tatters didn't help either. She prodded the ashes again, brooding. She thought of remaking the fire, despite how exhausted she was. She wondered again where what happened to the god.

It was funny; she worried about a perfectly mundane thing as cold, as well if her divine lover would return to her. As the weak light grew stronger her happiness faded and her anxiety grew, _he's never coming back._

Her mouth twisted in disappointment. She guessed it was to be expected. He was a god wild as the wind. Why would he want her? She sighed and kicked a few pebbles out of the cave, then meandered casually out. Hoping maybe he was there, he wasn't, but Club Foot was.

"Uuggh oh" she said involuntarily. He was just a broken pile now, dragged and dumped out of the cave like refuse. Sky Eyes simply stood there in horror. To her surprise a wave of pity overcame her. She fought off tears.

Yes he was a boor, and possibly dangerous, and uncompassionate, yet, Sky Eyes looked at his deformity; he was an outcast just for being born different, like her. She just hoped his afterlife wasn't as bad as this one. The woman looked carefully over the remains. Hopefully whatever was in his head didn't escape when he died. Uneasy she left his corpse.

_What will I do now?_ She thought. Thankfully she was alive, but what now?

She started by eating the cold rabbit. No use wasting it. Maybe she could find some clothes, tools, and set off on her journey again. Although chances were slim to none of her being adopted or accepted anywhere.

First she would bury Club Foot. She didn't think he deserved not to have a proper funeral, although his customs were probably different from hers.

A small part of her disagreed. After what he wanted to do to her last night! _Well,_ she blushed a third time. _In a strange way he got his wish._ Her mind tried to wrap around that bizarre idea.

A crow was "caw-caw-cawing" as he landed on Club Foot's corpse.

Sky Eyes gasped as he started picking at it, and swiftly chased it away. Soon more came though, hovering and eyeing the body greedily.

The woman looked around helplessly, she knew she had to dig a grave soon, but she didn't have the tools. Still she didn't want his spirit haunting her. She started poking around the cave.

She found a filthy deerskin tunic that she shook thoroughly before putting on. Spears, which Club Foot must have kept only out of pride. Several snares and fishing lines, as well as some roasted quail.

"Ah!' She cried as she uncovered several well made flint knives. These were very useful, and much better than her worn down yucca knife. After some more digging she found a basket (obviously made by a woman from another tribe) filled with musty old blankets and a sling whose leather was just beginning to rot.

_Hmmmm_, Sky Eyes thought. These were all useful, if not directly helpful to her burial problem. She looked at the finely made spear and sling, realizing with a sinking feeling that she had no idea how to use them. She wasn't a hunter after all. Those would have to be grave goods then.

Stepping briskly outside, her eyes fell on four or five crows eating the corpse. Feeling uneasy she shooed them away again. They hopped away and cawed insolently, she thought their beady black eyes showed distaste.

Sighing at the futility of it she wandered past the lip of the cave and ambled into the little valley. She wondered about the god, why he wanted to mate with her, she gave her small secret smile, where he was now. Sighing again she wondered, _hoped_ if he was coming back.

_He's not going to come back; _she tried to prepare herself mentally for disappointment. She felt disappointed anyway. Now she knew why women giggled together in corridors and bought aphrodisiacs for their husbands from the medicine woman. Her marriage wasn't unpleasant, at least until the very end, but in comparison it was dull, so _passionless._ He had married her because he didn't have a very high status, and no one else wanted the woman rumored to be a witch.

At least she wasn't dead. He didn't want to eat her. Now she could live her life now. Have a future, with a bit of luck.

Wrapped up in her thoughts she almost tripped.

She looked down. She was standing a small depression. Sky Eyes kicked some earth up with her foot. It was soft. Looking around she could see it would be a perfect grave for poor Club Foot. To her joy she even saw a pile of misshapen stones near the edge. All she would have to do was turn them over. The woman started to race back to the cave, wanting to finish the unpleasant chore quickly.

The "god" circled above, watching his new found treat, taking off on a run. A bolt of anger shot through him as he thought she was trying to run away, but that quickly evaporated once he realized she was merely returning to the cave. He smiled, her potential wasn't fully realized. But it would be. _Maybe right now?_

Sky Eyes saw Club Foot with a cloak of some twenty crows now. She stopped a few feet away, downwind from the smell. She had time to think: _"How am I going to-?" _ Before she felt something big and heavy shove her to the Earth. Her mind flew into panic again. At first she thought it was cougar, then a strange man, then-

A feeling of warm bliss and relief flooded over her as she realized it was the god. He was sniffing her hair, licking her face. He pushed himself on top of her.

A small tingle of worry entered Sky Eyes heart, maybe he didn't want to, maybe he would kill her this time. That worry was soon obliterated by the ripping sound of the tunic.

"Oh-ohhhhhh" she moaned slowly as he slowly entered her. He was pushing the stolen organ slowly, rotating his body, sniffing and listening to the chorus of moans. He finally ended his probing and began a long series of slightly increasing thrusts. He didn't turn Sky Eyes over.

She laid flat on the ground, moaning softly. _Like a wild animal_ she thought. He continued to hump her slowly, his weight pressing down on her.

To her own surprise Sky Eyes began to giggle, almost uncontrollably. The laughter seemed to spring from a well of relief, giddiness, happiness, as well as physical pleasure. The god heard her and chuckled in response, she heard the deep, odd laugh as he leaned forward to lick her face.

As he pressed her into the Earth and she strove to press her body back into him she felt him lift her legs slightly at the knees. He increased his thrusts.

There was a single blissful moment where they both came, only slightly ruined when Sky Eyes accidentally inhaled a lungful of dust. She coughed, moaned, choked, and then moaned again.

The god howled with laughter as he extended a clawed hand to her. "Huh-huh-huh-huah-ha-hah-ha" he mocked openly at the dust on her face. Sky Eyes spit and sputtered but accepted his hand. She giggled again despite herself.

"Next time _I'm_ choosing the position."

------------------------------------------

The funeral didn't go as planned.

Realizing she couldn't perform it naked she looked for more clothes. However all she found were blankets. So she merely sliced a hole in one and made a crude but functional poncho.

The god helped carry the corpse to her chosen spot. Glancing at its horrible (she admitted this to herself) ancient face she could tell it honestly had no idea what she was planning. He gazed at her curiously as she ran back to the cave.

The spears, sling, knives, blankets, baskets and the quail, (she wouldn't eat them and he needed the food for the afterlife) she gathered in one big awkward handful and set them in the grave.

The god's expression changed as he realized what she was doing. He seemed to lose interest, but diverted his attention to the knives and spears. With no respect he chose the finest spears and knives to be rescued from burial and looked at them admiringly.

Sky Eyes sighed in frustration. How to tell a _god_ what he just did was sacrilegious? After some thought she decided she didn't have the right, and continued with the funeral. For good measure she exchanged the flint knife she took for her old yucca one.

The funeral hardly got more serious

The god seemed bored. He kept sniffing her at inappropriate moments, then nudging her and nuzzling her, as if he wanted to draw her attention away. Sky Eyes tried to ignore the distractions and conduct it, but realized she didn't really know all the ceremony, his tribe's ceremonies were probably different, and she didn't even know his real name.

She felt her pity rise again as she realized he would have to be branded as "Club Foot" in the afterlife. She finished the ceremony quickly as possible and began piling on rocks and dirt. To her surprise the god shrugged and helped her. The crows cawed in what seemed to be protest. The woman gasped in awe as they landed without fear onto the god's shoulder.

_For a god, he seems ungod-like is some ways_. She thought _true he was certainly unusual_, but he trod on the surface on the Earth, he wore old rags, and he had desired a woman like a man.

As if reading her mind the god slowly grinned and came forward. Sky Eyes had a brief vision of Club Foot doing the same, before he quickly pounced on her again. She cried out and tried to roll or squirm away. He merely adjusted his weight and grunted in the effort. Thankfully he didn't rip off her makeshift clothing; thankfully she was wearing nothing underneath.

The thing that disturbed her the most however, was the outrageously irreverent act of making love on top of a freshly created grave. She tried to protest, tried to persuade him, but he was too far gone. After a while she was too.

_One more thing I'm guilty of_

------------------------------------------

This was pure heaven.

No, not the mating with a god, although that was wonderful also, but Sky Eyes loved what he did next even more: He took her flying.

The woman, clinging to the god as tightly as she dared, peered over in mounting excitement at the swiftly rushing landscape. It was heaven. A little scary, but heaven, no other way to describe it.

Sky Eyes closed her eyes for a second, savoring the moment. This was the fulfillment of a long held childhood wish. She could hardly believe it was happening.

The crows tried to follow, but were swiftly and easily overtaken. Sky Eyes smirked slightly. As much as she loved birds, she didn't like these crows. They gave her a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The god was slightly surprised at the woman's reaction to this rather mundane activity. The monster realized how novel this must seem to her, a poor little Earth bound creature. He could see the wonder and delight in her eyes and sought to increase it. As well as play a few tricks.

Sky Eyes shrieked as the god playfully loosened his grip. She gasped when he dove so low the tips of his wings skimmed the Earth, felt her ears pop as he shot upwards swiftly. Her heart was in her mouth.

_He's-Just TEASING ME!_ She thought in terror and delight. Her dream had almost become a nightmare, and then slid back into a delicious dream. The woman laughed, drunk on her own giddiness. It was a beautiful dream. Her god smiled at the sound.

The flying dream soon spiraled again into a nightmare.

He set her down in an old corn field, ostensibly for mating again. She blushed like a bride and unloosed her hair (her braid was coming apart anyway) She played the proper woman as he approached, lowering her gaze modestly.

He smiled somewhat distantly, felt her hair and sniffed but left her alone. The woman lifted her head curiously as he made an open palmed gesture that implied she should wait. Sky Eyes watched him run off in confusion.

The more time that passed the more it seemed like a dream. The buzzing insects emerged, lulling her into a hypnotic state. She sauntered casually into the withering rows, flecks of golden corn wafted lazily through the air.

As part of the dream her divine lover seemed to tread less on the ground then to walk above it in his swift running. His rags seemed to have transformed into a long handsome brown and crimson coat. She gazed in wonder at his actions. The image of him standing out darkly in the cornfield as he ran at a supernatural speed, then her mind focused. He appeared closer, and closer, while simultaneously traveling slower and slower.

Sky Eyes watched as the world became impossibly slow, she could see every sweeping gesture of his body as he cut across the field, every piece of shredded vegetable matter that flew around him, every dust particle he churned up, she him flick his hand casually and something shiny flew from it. For some reason the smile began to fade from her face.

Something swift caught her eye.

At first she thought it was a deer, whose brown hide helped it blend into the field. She saw the helpless prey animal zigzag hopelessly; she heard it squeal as the shining object struck it.

The monster-god yanked the animal up from the field, shrieking in triumph. Sky Eyes felt the smile slide completely from her face

It wasn't a deer, it was a man.

The god had him by the hair. His stupid ugly face was twisted in terror. Sky Eyes heard him squeal again as the god pulled a glinting stone axe seemingly by magic from underneath his coat. She heard the strangely familiar sound of meat being butchered.

It was like everything that was familiar was warped into horrible wrongness. The god screamed; a triumphant sound and twisted into what reminded Sky Eyes of a victorious hunters dance. He was like a man who just captured a fine animal. Sky Eyes felt something warm and wet splash across her face. She could smell blood.

_That coat he's wearing…_ She caught sight of it and understood instantly. Flecks of blood were flying from it. Its "hood" had an empty horror filled face with empty eye sockets. _He's wearing human skin. He just__ripped it off a man._ She thought logically, neatly. The woman started going numb.

He saw beautiful blue eyes peering at him through the mass of golden brown corn. He turned to her in grinned in savage triumph and started towards her, dragging his victim. Sky Eyes peripheral vision disappeared, all she could see was his grinning maw, once again red with blood.

Her foolish vision of him as a benevolent friend and lover suddenly crashed with current reality. Still numb and now going into shock Sky Eyes turned dizzily on her heel and tried to "escape" by walking calmly away. When the god-monster caught up to her, puzzled, he saw her shaking and could smell fear. Sky Eyes felt the extremely unpleasant sensation of adrenaline over her entire body. Rivers of sweat rolled down her thighs and she started to gasp badly for air.

The monster still held her arm, but Sky Eyes sank uncontrollably to the Earth. He let her go, reluctantly it seemed, and returned to the freshly slaughtered man.

She curled up into Grandmother Earth and watched the monster god do horrific things to a corpse. To combat tunnel vision and the sudden vertigo and dizziness she shut her eyes tightly. Her heart stuttered and pained. Her stomach seemed to cramp in sympathy, she resisted the urge to vomit.

Her eyes snapped open in what seemed like a second later, but Sky Eyes knew it had been hours. The sun was starting to dip low, and where once had been corpse, there was only red- tinged moist bones. The monster sucked and licked one, then casually tossed it away, picking his teeth. He glanced at Sky Eyes.

The woman no longer felt so strange or ill, but she did suffer from an odd exhaustion. She felt wrung out, and an unpleasant lingering tingle of fear remained in her limp body.

The monster got up from squatting over the bones and walked over to her, examining her inquiringly. Throughout the meal she was on the ground, curled up and panting softly. It was curious, but she didn't try to run away so he let her be.

Now she lay in the plowed corn field, gazing up at him with those peculiar eyes. He smirked and settled himself over her. He started licking her face, then all over. Sky Eyes gave a weak slight smile. It was almost funny what he did; now he was bending down, in between her legs. It was wonderful, as always.

It wasn't when he came back up, still savoring her taste in his mouth, sniffing her passionately and enveloping them both with his long overcoat.

Sky Eyes gave a small cry, like a bird in distress. Sensing rebellion her god pushed her more firmly into the field_. It wasn't so bad_ Sky Eyes thought as the mating began. She loved coupling with him, the "coat" was semi-wet and congealing. It seemed to dry in the waning sun and tighten around them, bringing the "god" and the "witch" even more closely together.

The blue eyed woman did not resist. She allowed the god to do what he wished. The world became surreal and dreamlike again. Sky Eyes was aroused, but disturbed, in love but disgusted. He mind felt like a whirlpool of confusion.

Presently he finished. Coming with a final thrust and a grunt, he gazed into her big solemn eyes, and smelled a hint of fear. He lifted her easily off to the ground and took to the air again. His woman finally favored him once again with a smile. She looked at the bones becoming smaller and smaller as she once again left the Earth. Crows began descending on them. She did not want to bury them.

------------------------------------------

Swiftly, they reached the gods house. He lived in a cave, just like Club Foot. However it was smaller and better hidden. It was also much cleaner.

Sky Eyes followed him quietly, but happily in, then stopped dead.

All around the walls were skin and bones. Bones (she knew somehow they were human) swirled in patterns around the cave walls. Dried out skin hung like tapestries. There were spears in one corner, knives in the other. Old blankets, clothes, feathers and beads and other normal things we scattered here and there.

The monster saw the woman mouth twist upside down in distress. She backed out of the cave, like a frightened animal that's caught a bad scent. He grabbed her wrist and tried to bring her back in but she moaned in anguish and didn't stray from him, so he let her camp outside. This surprised him, as humans generally liked and felt safe in shelters, no matter how flimsy in reality.

Night was falling. The woman shivered and he gave her a blanket. She shivered some more and he lit a fire. Soon afterwards he left for hunting, making a very elaborate gesture that clearly said _stay here!_ Sky Eyes nodded to show she understood, blushing when she remembered how she disobeyed last time.

His hunt was over quickly, and he returned before it was totally dark. Sky Eyes kept her head down when he brought in a corpse. The god had punched his victim and knocked her out, then strangled her to finish her off, carefully spilling no blood.

He liked her dress. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers, some sort of woven plant matter, it was stained red with ochre; the color reminded him of dried blood. Sewn into it were hundreds of funny beads that he had never seen before. They were tiny cowry shells, traded hundred of miles inland to a nomadic tribe passing through the area. This woman was simply unfortunate enough to catch his eye.

Carefully removing the dead woman's dress and shoes he presented them to the Breeder. She looked at him in polite curiosity, and then gasped as he shook out the bundle and the shells chimed together; she ran her fingers over it.

Overcome with astonishment and gratitude Sky Eyes bent to the ground and poured dust onto her head, showing proper reverence for a god. She noticed for his bizarre looking feet tapping the ground in eagerness. He picked her up from the ground and handed the bundle to her.

Sky Eyes excitedly took off the make-shift poncho and kicked off her old moccasins. She admired her new found finery. The god smiled, showing his teeth as she walked around haltingly, the shells chinking gently together. The dress seemed oddly warm.

As if a dam had burst, Sky Eyes suddenly broke the solemn silence over the trauma she witnessed by thanking him profusely then launching into an endless stream of happy chatter and questions. In her giddy, manic state she never noticed the monster bringing flesh to his mouth, or the fact that he never answered her. Sky Eyes felt her mind run a mile a minute, unable to contain such excitement and happiness. Normally she never gushed but the monster didn't seem to mind.

When she finally fell asleep he looked down at her figure. She was so unusual; her eyes alone made him stop and stare. She quickly accepted him into her and life and into her body, eagerly giving pleasure as much as she received it. However her smiles disappeared when he hunted and killed. She seemed to overcome that though.

He had listened to her cheerful chatter, smiling slightly at the happy tone in her voice, regretting he didn't understand a word of her language. Uncharacteristically, he had a whimsical visual metaphor of the Breeder as a chirping bird. Going on and on in a sweet voice he didn't understand.

He leaned over and sniffed her face, then her body. She wasn't pregnant, yet, despite how many times he had tried. She would be fertile soon enough though, he promised to himself.

------------------------------------------

Sky Eyes awoke from the cool ground. She yawned and gazed into the ashes of the fire while rubbing her eyes. She tried to remember her dream; it had been a good one…

The god came sauntering over, she was dismayed to see he wore a woman's skin and was dragging back more corpses. He winked at her before entering the cave.

It disturbed her so much. He could be gentle, even kind to her, yet he attacked other people with a savageness Sky Eyes couldn't imagine in her worst tribal enemies. Then to do such inhuman things as to _eat_ and _skin_ them?

_He's not human_. She reminded herself sternly. She couldn't think of him as human, it was against his nature. Her mind wandered back to the dream. The details came flooding back.

It was an odd dream; she only remembered pieces of it, like broken pottery shards. Once she dreamed she had four mighty arms, like Spider Woman, except two of which grew out of her back and helped her fly. She dreamed of being curled up and sleeping in the womb of the Earth then being joyfully born. She dreamed of sitting atop a stalk of corn, growing supernaturally fast from the field. She had ripped off her skin/husk stretching her arms in ecstasy to the sun. Sometimes she was watching the god, sometimes she _was_ the god.

Sky Eyes didn't remember the nightmares, horrid as they were. Nor did she remember the monster, who had run to her when he heard her screaming. She had awoken from them, and quickly fallen back to sleep.

The god walked out the cave again. Sky Eyes approached him and slyly asked for his name.

The god looked blank. The woman realized for the first time, he may not even speak a human language. Still, she whispered to him:

"I think I know who you are; you are The One Who Walks In The Rows, Our Lord The Flayed One, and Son of the Corn Mother." She pointed to him and said "Xipe Totec". The "god" realizing he had just been christened, decided to indulge her. To humans all things must have names. "Xipe Totec" he repeated and was rewarded with a dazzling smile as well an impromptu ceremonial song and dance. Enraptured, he interrupted her joyous singing and pounced on her to the ground. She abruptly stopped in surprise.

He trailed a tongue over her cheek, relishing her delicious taste, as well as accidentally leaving a trail of blood from a previous victim on her copper skin. She kissed him, gingerly ran her tongue over his rows of teeth, and did not alarm when she tasted blood, thinking it was her own.

His jaws ached to bite off the bold intruding tongue, so to prevent that he carefully disengaged from the kiss and let his taste buds swiftly explore lower and lower.

Sky Eyes gasped and barely repressed a yelp of pleasure

He smirked at the sound and so was surprised when she pulled away. He licked his teeth and whined in disappointment and tried to grab her again. However she had other plans, with a serene smile on her face he saw her bend her spine. Her head dipped low and he felt himself being taken gently into her mouth.

He jerked in surprise and the Breeder stopped to gaze up at him with anxious blue eyes. To signal his consent he ran his fingers through her hair, entangling. She continued onward, using her hand as well as her mouth. He smiled in slight amusement at the idea of **him** being in a **human's** mouth.

The monster god didn't hate it, far from it he was enjoying himself immensely, but as he grew longer and harder (and licked the last of her taste from his lips) he hastily withdrew himself and clambered back onto top of her.

She chirped out some question he didn't understand. He wished he could answer but the only words of her language he knew was the name she gave him. He didn't want to waste himself, she still wasn't pregnant yet.

The two nuzzled and kissed. He forced his long tongue into her mouth, tasting his own flavor in her. He licked the roof of her mouth playfully. Sky Eyes giggled slightly, and accepted him inside of her with a happy sigh.

She still couldn't believe how much fun it was, after such a platonic, loveless marriage. It was like living in one of the many ubiquitous myths she had been raised with; stories of gods mating and ensuring fertility. Nature deities dragged into the underworld and returning every year as thinly disguised attempts to explain the passing of the seasons.

The whole world felt blessed. When hunger and fatigue finally drove them apart Sky Eyes slept and she dreamed. She dreamed that when they mated corn grew in abundance and rivers filled with sweet water and silt.

Later she dreamed she was inside a corn stalk again. However she didn't bust joyfully from the husk. She was suffocating in human skin. A flayed skin was covering her and smothering her.

While she was struggling to escape some men appeared to her. She didn't recognize them, but they were in various horrible states of dismemberment and decay. One of the men became clearer. Half of his mouth was torn open and it gave the appearance of a twisted sneering smile. He grabbed Sky Eyes and shook her. She struggled to get away in terror.

She knew who he was, and the realization twisted her stomach shut. It was the young man she had cut open with her knife during her panicky escape. Xipe Totec must have later killed him.

He was yelling, screaming at her, but all his words sounded mashed together, as if he spoke backwards. His eyes were big and wild. Sky Eyes tried to run but the other dismembered men circled around her, and the human skin she was wearing was too tight, she struggled and struggled…

When the god came back the woman was quiet and solemn again. She refused to look at the meat he brought back. Tears ran silently down her face

------------------------------------------

The next few days passed leisurely. Sky Eyes continued to live with her god-lover, and they were endlessly fascinated with each other. Communication was a big problem, but they were rapidly overcoming that. She pointed to herself, saying her name, then to the sky, calling it by it's name, then to her eyes, giving him the word for those, then to herself again. He understood instantly and licked her face. Then pointed to her eyes and raised an eyebrow in question. Sky Eyes made a gesture of cradling a baby, which he didn't understand. Then she took a stick and drew a passable picture of baby then pointed to herself, which he did understand. Apparently she was just born with those eyes. Sky Eyes looked forward to the day when she could relate the tale of her divine ancestry.

Pictures were another way of communication. Her drawings were okay and his were excellent. When the days wore on and Sky Eyes became hungrier and hungrier (recoiling in shock and horror at the human flesh he offered her) she could steal corn from local fields but that was always risky, and made her feel guilty for theft, so she went to the god for help and drew a recognizable picture of a deer. He nodded and flew off.

Sky Eyes husband often brought her strips of dried deer meat for her and her mother when he was lucky or feeling magnanimous. It was all always a rare special treat that Sky Eyes loved and the only thing she really begged her husband for. Usually she lived on a corn/ vegetable diet, supplemented by the occasional fish.

As such she was stunned with god returned with a whole deer-a buck nonetheless-over his shoulder and dropped it simply at her feet, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

Crying with joy at the bounty she tried to offer him the choicest parts, which he instantly refused, a look of horror and disgust that was clearly a parody of her early one (she had to laugh at that) she didn't no where to begin butchering she had so much meat.

The god helped, easily sawing off limbs and flaying skin. Sky Eyes mirth dimmed a little, uneasily watching him butchering the animal. It wasn't that he was unnecessarily brutal or cruel-quite the opposite. She saw the same cold casualness in him that she saw when he dealt with humans. She realized a human and a deer weren't that different to him. The woman ate until she was full in silence, thinking.

The contradictions were always there. He could be enormously generous to her, like with the deer, and yet evil and cruelty we're obviously a part of his gruesome nature. He ate nothing but people, and did twisted things like take their possessions and wear their skins. Sky Eyes wondered why she was so special; it was probably her unusual eyes, which he liked looking at. She didn't even want to think about the possibility of him turning on her…

Still as horrifying as he was, she found herself genuinely likening him, maybe even loving him. He was like the fulfillment of every childhood wish, and he gave her endless pleasure and whatever she could ever wanted. Her dreams reflected this reality. She dreamed of love and fertility then visited the spirit world and was harassed and frightened by his victims. Her nightmares were becoming more frequent, they were starting to cause her to lose sleep.

She tried to justify it to herself. He was a nature god. Nature was sometimes cruel. According to the legends of Xipe Totec his cycle made the corn grow and his sacrifice of skin was like the corn losing its outer layer. Without the sacrifice mankind would starve. Without death there was no life.

Still the nightmares continued.

To distract her mind during the daylight hours she made herself scarce when he made his kills, covering her ears if she could hear screams. She made her hands busy, living with the god gave her the luxury of being idle as a queen, but she enjoyed honest work even more, as she had her whole life.

She preserved the deer meat and its skin. She gathered tubers and berries again and fished occasionally. When the god heard her whistling her bird songs when she worked he immediately stopped and demanded more, so her whistling became a source for major entertainment for them, with her teaching the god to do so. He also enjoyed her singing, but didn't dance for him much, as that was a communal activity and as such she never learned to do it properly.

Sky Eyes observed him carefully and saw that he didn't wear his human skins all the time, often he took clothes from his victims and wore those. But they were all ancient, moldering or stiff-with-filth rags that Sky Eyes hated. She sewed new ones for him, which he could do only crudely. She also wove fine baskets to hold his belongings, which he could do not at all.

He was all very delighted with all she did for him, and showed his appreciation frequently and abundantly.

As a result Sky Eyes tried more and more to earn appreciation. The clothes she affixed with beautiful patterns of beads, feathers and designs. He didn't like their showiness but the artist in him loved them so he usually wore them. She even found Golden Eagle feathers in an abandoned nest and ran excitedly down to give to him. He didn't understand the symbolic importance but saw the eagerness in which she presented them to him. He let her touch his long trail of coarse white hair in fascination and weave in the feathers in the style of her tribe. He saw her look on approvingly when she was done, and even he had to admit he looked more passably human then he did by wearing rags and skins. His prey allowed him to move closer before running away in a panic, he noticed. To Sky Eyes he looked more like a god more than ever.

Still, as useful, and amusing, and pleasurable as he found her. One thing eluded him. She still didn't become pregnant. Sky Eyes never learned of his desire and it never occurred to her that she had the potential. However "Xipe Totec" found himself more and more anxious as the days went on. If he failed in this task he would have to sleep again. The only chance he would have was to awake and hope he found her again. He began trying harder and harder, much to Sky Eyes delight.

The god shook his head listening to her whistling as she gathered firewood. He still had time, and if he failed, he still had an important use for her. She was a key to the cliff dwellers.

Sky Eyes kept her head down over her work. Her whistling was shrill, seeing a woman decapitated then casually given her deerskin leggings wasn't something she wanted to see. She trembled, closed her eyes, and prayed silently.

_Please no more nightmares._


	17. Chapter 17

Sky Eyes awoke the morning of The Terrible Day screaming violently.

Xipe Totec checked on her quickly, as he always did, but he was starting to wonder why she screamed when there was nothing threatening her. Or why she moaned and jerked in her sleep, her eyes rolling beneath her lids.

Sky Eyes ran her hands carefully down her face, for one horrible moment thinking her tears were blood. She collapsed in relief when she saw they were merely tears. She sobbed once and wiped them away.

"Caw-aw-aw-aw-aw-aw!" a nearby crow cawed mockingly, as if laughing at her distress. The woman felt her fear dissolve instantly into rage and she chased the crows away. The squawked in protest and circled lazily back, oddly unafraid of humans. Sky Eyes flew into a greater rage, ripping up rocks and clods of dirt to hurl at them. She screamed obscenities at them.

The god watched his woman with amusement, but grew uneasy when he caught a whiff of stale fear. There was nothing here to be afraid of, no wild animals or wild humans to scare his tame one. All there was were crows, and they were nothing to be afraid of.

However Sky Eyes was afraid of the crows, deep down inside she knew these were not normal crows. Although they wouldn't let her hold them they came closer to her than any normal bird would. They circled above her and around her audaciously, cawing annoyingly. Then they hopped onto Xipe Totec's shoulder, glaring at her with what seemed distaste, cawing at him, as if asking their god-master why this woman wasn't dead yet.

Sky Eyes tried to tell herself she was being ridiculous, they were just crows, she had always liked birds. Now these crows were making her feel sick and afraid. They were the messengers of the god, she assumed, they were not only supernatural but probably hostile as well. She had _seen_ them eat flesh.

She could feel their beady eyes on her. She was beginning to think they were eyeing her with hunger. Last night was the worst, she had dreamed-she blinked back tears-she dreamed she was dead. Deep beak gouges adorned her body. Blue eyes hanging by strings were carried in the crow's mouths.

It was the most terrifying vivid nightmare she had, and that was saying something.

More and more people appeared to her in her dreams. She saw the hunter whom the god tore up, whose widow and brother condemned her to him, as well as the man in the field, wearing his own flayed skin. She saw Club Foot; a putrid reeking mass eternally picked at by crows, only recognizable by his deformity, and many, many others.

They all spoke to her. They had the same glaring, accusing eyes as the crows. Sometimes their eyes looked at her in desperation. Some had tried to talk to her, but the words were always garbled and incomprehensible. She felt like she understood some words though.

They whispered: _run, help, hide, _sometimes they screamed.

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She tried to work off the nightmare, which possibly wasn't a nightmare, the bright sun helped, but the crows didn't. She shivered.

She tried to chase them away, but they kept coming back. She kept reflexively covering her eyes. They cawed at her.

In the dream she was dead and broken. She could see her own corpse lying unceremoniously on the ground, blood trickling out of her mouth. A few flies buzzed here and there, she hadn't decomposed yet. Sky Eyes didn't know how long she stared at her own demise.

Then the crows came, plucking out her eyeballs. She could clearly see them hanging like bright blue berries from their beaks. Before she awoke she thought she felt their little black talons on her face. That's why she woke up screaming.

The rest of the day she was quiet and cross, ignoring the god's suggestive nudges and finally driving him to hunt with her tired sighs. As soon as he left she regretted her attitude but the lack of decent sleep and her conflicted feelings were driving her crazy.

Sky Eyes wandered from the cave area somewhat aimlessly. She liked the god, he was kind and attentive to her, yet she was disgusted and repulsed by his grotesque actions. Even now she knew he was plotting or doing something terrible, yet she did absolutely nothing to discourage or stop him, or even to the steps to remove herself from his presence. She just sat there, trying to ignore the fact that people we're being brutally killed.

The woman tried to reason with herself, he _was_ a god. Maybe she had no right to judge or criticize him, being a lowly human being, even if she did have supposedly have divine ancestry.

Maybe that was it, maybe as a human she shouldn't be living with him, never mind actually mating with him. Nevertheless it felt so _right _and _good_ being with him, as opposed to being in a loveless marriage and a tribe that barely tolerated her. Still on some level it felt wrong. Very wrong.

Sky Eyes meandering came to an abrupt halt at the edge of what she thought was another arroyo, then she peered down and saw that it was a cliff. She steadied herself as she realized she could have very nearly walked off. It was a very sheer drop into the valley below.

She merely stood at the edge lost in her thoughts, an eagle soared below her and back to it's cliff nest. Returning, no doubt, to a nest full of chicks.

A slight cramp shot up through her loins, through her pelvis and up her spine. She closed her eyes in annoyance and gritted her teeth. Great. How many days would it be? Two? Three? Just one more thing to worry about. She wondered if she could use the old rags she saw lying around in the cave.

Suddenly she realized the significance of it. She smiled slightly, no wonder she was so irritable! She was always like that before she bled, well the nightmares weren't helping either, but now she had understood her behavior. She wondered if the god would understand. Sky Eyes giggled slightly, even Xipe Totec had to face some realities when living with a woman.

Feeling relieved she turned back. Still smiling slightly she meandered back to the cave. His vocabulary had improved enormously in the past few days, he learned very quickly. Language was sort of like a toy they could fashion endless games to amuse themselves with. Of course they could communicate even better now, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to talk to him about blood yet.

Maybe if he's god he would already know, already understand, especially a cycle driven god like him. Maybe she wouldn't have to delve _too_ deeply into it. _**If**__ he's a god._

Sky Eyes blinked. No, she knew he was a god, didn't she? There was no if. She began to feel uneasy; that suggestive voice came from nowhere, she had a nasty feeling it wasn't hers. For some reason it reminded her of the nightmares. She shook her head and returned to the cave, he was already there shoving bodies wrapped in skins into his lair. Sky Eyes carefully looked down.

He grabbed her chin and moved her head up, admiring her unusual feature. The woman smiled back, then pressed he nose against his in an apologizing gesture. He rubbed his long nose against her and as well as breathing in her scent. It was a mutual silent sorry. A wordless gesture of forgiveness for a wordless spat.

As they mated once again Sky Eyes felt as ecstatic and happy as she did the very first time. However this was the first time doubt entered her heart. _If._

-------------------------------

Later that day he grabbed her unexpectedly. She jumped in great alarm, angry at being so startled, but she had no time to tell him off, for they were soon to the air again. All angry thoughts were driven out.

Naturally she was delighted, seeing what birds must see, an old dream of hers. This time she was less frightened, leaning out to look at the ground rushing by below, watched as the few people beneath them turned away at their shadow, the air whipping by her face yet loosening her hair gently. At one point he even let her ride on his back (not for long since that interfered too much with his wings) Sky Eyes felt like a bird, a goddess, the Queen of Heaven.

At one point they passed clouds. One was low-lying and heavy, moving slowly and lazily as a fat goose in the air. Excited she tapped the gods shoulder and pointing to it. He shrugged and gained altitude, flying towards it. He always granted her harmless requests, and this one seemed the most harmless one of all.

_What fun! I've __**always**__ wanted to see inside one,_ the woman thought giddily. She almost felt like a little girl again, all her silly whimsical childhood wishes we're being belatedly granted.

It turned out clouds we're very wet, and very cold. It was nothing more than flying through thick mist. They came out thoroughly soaked. The god didn't seem to mind, probably because he was naked and dried quickly. Sky Eyes sat miserably cold for the next few minutes. It was more than a little disappointing.

Her mind wandered, if she didn't know he was Xipe Totec she would have said he was a rain god, one of the men with wings who carried water down to the thirsty Earth. He didn't bring rain, which was obvious, in fact it did seem to be getting drier, but she never heard of any legends of Xipe Totec actually having wings. To clear her head of the doubt she looked down again.

The territory looked familiar, she realized in half a second this was _her_ territory, or her old tribe's territory in fact. She was just seeing a bird's eye view of it.

No sooner had she said this than the Pueblos came into view.

Sky Eyes felt her heart sink. She didn't really know what to think, she didn't know if she still hated them, or if she wanted to see them all dead. The woman thought back to her curse and was suddenly horribly embarrassed by her outburst. True they hated her, and some wanted her dead, but she wasn't dead she was alive and largely happy. She really didn't want to see them again.

The circled and landed on top of the cliffs the pueblos were built on, the tribe said they we're unscalable.

Suddenly she remembered her mother She wondered were she was.

A bad feeling was rolling in her stomach. Why was she brought here? She started getting upset. Seeing the look on her face the god sniffed her and checked her carefully. "Hurt?" he asked in her in his deep raspy voice. Sky Eyes shook her head.

Xipe Totec gestured to the Pueblos beneath them. Sky Eyes taught him the word "Pueblo". "Pueblo." He repeated. He pointed to the chimneys with smoke rising gently to them. She explained their purpose best she could and taught him the word "kiva". He drew pictures in the dust, and she realized they were partial floor plans of the entire dwellings, at his request she filled in the rest and corrected his mistakes. He asked how people got in and out of these dwellings and she explained the rope and the notched tree trunks they used for ladders. He nodded and absorbed the information.

Sky Eyes bad feeling grew worse. She didn't know exactly what he was going to do, but she had a general idea, and it alarmed.

She started to plead, surprising herself by begging him on behalf of her treacherous people. He didn't listen, merely affectionately licked her face and scaled down the wall like a lizard.

Sky Eyes felt another panic attack coming about. She sat down very fast and struggled to breathe, when she thought she had some control she began to panic with indecision again. Torn between the love she had for her god and the tribe she was born into. She knew what would happen. The whole community was designed to repel a human invader; they were helpless against the god. He would trap them inside, penetrate their defenses, cut off their only means of escape, he would leave them totally vulnerable.

For a moment Sky Eyes wavered, then started searching for a way down.

The Pueblo wasn't designed to accommodate people traveling from the very top into one of the dwellings, but Sky Eyes had grown up here. She knew how to climb and navigate the treacherous rock.

Still it was difficult; she had to slowly climb down, feet first. _Keep three limbs on at all time,_ she repeated her earliest instructions to herself, _do not get trapped_. The wall down to the first dwelling was sheer, practically vertical; she only survived by finding the minute cracks and hollows to support her weight.

It was tedious and slow going. One careless lurch or loose rock could have been the death of her, and it was excruciatingly difficult to get her body in though the window with falling and breaking her neck. Still she managed to swing her weight forward neatly through the opening and fell into the dwelling unharmed. By then she could already smell smoke.

"Xipe Totec" was hungry.

He detected many nice ripe scents emanating from these cliff dwellers, and he could get a few of them if they strayed out of their protective rock dwellings, or if someone carelessly left a child alone in a room, but he didn't like being in there. He felt trapped in the rooms and narrow corridors. Places so tiny he couldn't stretch his wings or even his arms out. It would easy for him to get caught in some narrow choke hold, with a dozen spears harassing him. By then all the good prey could have escaped.

He shook his head in wonder as humans constantly created tiny cramped spaces for themselves. Like ants in a hill.

Now thanks to the invaluable advice from the breeder he new what he could do. He blocked some of the kivas, it would create smoke, which would affect his sense of smell, but also created invaluable panic. The cliff people were scurrying around already.

They had no place to go he had knocked down or destroyed there means of escape.

A tide of alarm gradually swelled into to flood of terror as rumors and sightings spread through the Pueblo. The demon-god was here. He would kill and eat them all.

Sky Eyes heard a chorus of wails.

She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know why she was here. Honestly she couldn't tell you her feelings about the whole situation. But it started to feel wrong, very wrong.

_I could die in here_, she though wildly_, be killed or suffocated_. Still she raced through the Pueblo, perfect memory allowing her to navigate through fear and smoke. She paused to cough, clearing it from her lungs. She had no real plan.

Sky Eyes followed the screams, which we're rising up from everywhere it seemed. In one place she slipped and landed in gore.

Wailing with fear, horror and disgust she got up and ran way blindly, the panic of the herd was getting to her.

_Why did I leave the roof top?_ She thought. _Why?_

Then she realized, her mother! She didn't know where she was or if she was even alive. They could have killed her for bearing a witch, or thrown her out. After all she had no where to go, she would just be a burden until she died. All she had was Sky Eyes.

Her eyes stung with smoke and tears. Maybe the god killed her. Maybe she was being eaten now.

_No_, she couldn't allow that to happen. She had to find her, stop him, they could live together like always, she couldn't abandon her, her mother had been the only person in the world who cared for her.

Sky Eyes ran to her old pueblo, but doubts nagged her mind again. It had been her husband's place after all. Maybe he would have been unkind and thrown Mother out after his "witch" wife had been gotten rid of. But she had no where else to go.

She found another corpse, this one with its heart removed. She heard a baby wail in the distance.

Then her old tribe mates suddenly began streaming past. She tried to stop, but their panic overwhelmed her and they brushed past without seeing her. The stream of people soon turned into a flood. She thought she saw the Oldest One's granddaughter running by, clutching the wailing baby she was accused of putting a curse on. The outcast yelled and they paid no attention. She tried calling her mother's name but in her heart she knew she was not in this crowd, she had been far too old to run.

A man knocked his shoulder against hers, she grabbed him in desperation, "Please I'm looking for-" then stopped. It was The Brother.

Their eyes locked together, and she saw the unimaginable fear in his grow lager. He began screaming and wailing: "The witch! The witch!" he shrieked in agony. The crowd finally seemed to see her and shrieked in unison.

It was probably the most terrifying moment in her life, surrounded by a mob that hated and feared her beyond reason. At least there was some organization to their paranoia before; she had actually been given a trial. Now they were desperate and panicked and the gods knew what they would do. Sky Eyes felt her knees quake in fear.

The mob seemed torn: wanting to run, but wanting to dispatch this evil in their midst. Sky Eyes pressed her self into the wall, trying to disappear.

Before anything could happen though there was another shriek and all heads turned towards a dark figure crouching low atop one of the roofs, barely visible in the waning sunlight. A low growl emanated from it.

The crow now all jumped back instantaneously, like a hand that touched a hot cooking stone. The witch no longer mattered, what mattered getting out alive. Xipe Totec jumped directly in front of her, screaming menacingly. She watched in shock as his head started to _writhe_. The bony claws that encircled his skull suddenly stretched out in a grotesque spectacle.

The effect on the crowd was incredible. They stampeded in deafening hysteria. Even Sky Eyes nearly sank to the ground in fear. There were too many people and not enough space, the woman could see and hear people being trampled, some clambered down the cliff wall, others just jumped in desperation. She knew the monster god had got them in this spot. For a moment even she could smell the fear. The god began choosing his victims.

Sky Eyes ran.

Those who lived or escaped and were brave enough to look back saw the angry demon guarding the witch. They moaned in realization that Sky Eyes curse had sprung to life and wrapped itself around there necks, destroying them all.

Tears blurred her eyes at the desperate brutal scene. Still she raced to her husband's pueblo.

Sky Eyes husband hid, cowering like many others who had not joined the crowd and cringed in their pueblos. Hoping against hope the vengeful demon would pass them over, or that the smoke and fire wouldn't kill them. He clutched his good spear. His panic and horror was far deeper than the others, a feeling in his gut told him it was because of him. He thought the vengeful demon-god was coming after him.

As if to confirm his worst thoughts he heard the violent pounding of footsteps, only slightly muffled by the heavy rock floor. It didn't sound like the stampede, which was already dying down, it sounded like it was coming towards him. He whimpered and shoved himself into the corner. Where his new wife was he didn't know. He lost her in the crowd when he doubled back.

A dark figure stood in his threshold, he positioned the spear. It was far to cramped of a space to aim and throw, the horror would have to rush at him. He felt his guts shrivel at the thought.

The figure stumbled forward; he cried in alarm and raised his spear, suddenly a soft, hoarse voice called his name.

He froze, for a moment thinking his wife had returned. He was right, he was wrong.

Sky Eyes stepped forward again, searching for her mother. When she could not see her she cried in anguish. Her husband's blood froze in his veins at the sound and sight of what he was sure was his dead wife. Her face was smeared with pale ash and dust. She was covered in gore and her voice damaged from the smoke. In his terrified state he was sure she was a ghost in the moonlight, covered in her own blood, howling from beyond the grave. Sky Eyes ghost would demand vengeance.

"Where is my mother?!" she cried out. Her husband trembled and said nothing. He didn't want the old woman in his pueblo, and although it was considered a rude gesture to an elderly person, the tribe accepted his decision considering what had happened to him. Most felt pity that he had been married to a witch. (Even though he knew Sky Eyes hadn't been a bad wife, just a barren one.) So he gave that impression and allowed the council to evict the old woman, he didn't know where she was now.

Sky Eyes tore at her hair in anguish and frustration, "Where is my mother?! Where is my mother?!" she shrieked at him repeatedly. "Mamma!" she screamed in desperation into the empty pueblo. Her husband clutched his spear and jabbed at the angry spirit. "S-s-stay b-b-ba-a-ack." He bleated.

Sky Eyes was sure her eyes were ice grey at this point. "Tell me were she is traitor! Coward!-" she spat out a flood of angry curses. In truth she was just desperate. She badly wanted her mother.

He gaped in horror at the apparition with the flashing blue eyes that haunted him and gave him nightmares. He was always afraid of Sky Eyes. Now he knew it. His fear spilled over into desperation as he jabbed the spear at her. She dodged but he lunged and caught her again in the chest. It was a very shallow wound, but nonetheless she screamed in pain.

Feeling triumphant and less afraid he sneered and moved forward. Irrational fear was morphed into hatred that was finally unleashed and given to murder. Sky Eyes clutched the shallow wound over her heart. She knew she would be killed now.

Before she could scream, or even react, she saw her husbands eyes widen in horror and shift her gaze behind her. "AH-h-h no! No!" he screamed as something shot passed her with speed of a diving eagle and plowed into her husband, knocking him to the ground.

She knew it was Xipe Totec; she could see him in the dim light on top of her shrill panicking husband. He sniffed him thoroughly, thoughtfully. Her husband babbled worthless pleas as he saw sharp awful teeth, the ugly demonic head, and noticed, oddly enough, the Golden Eagle feathers of status on the demon's head. The demon withdrew a sharp obsidian blade with a carved bone handle. Before the man could even panic about that he neatly cut off his deer skin leggings. The nice ones Sky Eyes made for him.

Her husband threw her of look of mixed and horror and pleading. Sky Eyes merely shrugged dispassionately, watching the whole scene with neither fear nor regret, nor horror, nor sadness, nor anger, nor vengeance. It was just something that was happening.

The demon paused, sniffed. He made a small sound, a small "ahhh" of appreciation.

Then he bent down and removed her husband's genitals in one neat, savage bite.

-------------------------------

Sky Eyes honestly didn't know what really happened after that.

The whole Pueblo was in total chaos, many dead or dying, or like her husband, wishing they were dead. She must have tried looking for her mother, she knew she screamed for her, but she did not find her, the god had spirited her away to a safe location.

Sky Eyes really felt nothing; she was numb to the whole experience. Later her emotions would catch up with her, but for now she nothing but a vague dissatisfaction. She wanted her mother; she wanted-weirdly enough-to go home. To be someplace familiar.

Xipe Totec had other plans.

He pushed her to the ground gently, sniffing intently. She saw his eyes roll upward in joy, sniffing the air around her passionately. He climbed on top of her.

At that moment Sky Eyes didn't want it. She squirmed and pushed him and protested, trying to wriggle out of his grip. She really just wanted to be left alone…

Using the same obsidian knife he cut off her torn bloodied clothing, he licked the blood, dirt and gore off the flesh that suddenly rose in response to the cool night air. He could taste a sort of burning heat inside of her and he liked it, he liked it immensely, he allowed himself to taste in between her legs again. Savoring the sweet tang from her.

Sky Eyes tried again to squirm away, she felt her backlogged emotions starting to be released by his attentions. She felt like crying, not because of the god as she loved him, but because her home was gone and she wanted to see her mother and a whole lot of confusing things her mind couldn't sort out right now.

The god was having none of it; he pushed her down and asserted his claim over her again. "Mine," he growled softly in her language, Sky Eyes suddenly felt a thrill of possession, knowing he was claiming her again. Her mind drifted back to her husband, and what the god did. It was like with Club Foot, he was using her husband on her, her mind tried to wrap around the concept. The god mounted her and began thrusting. _I guess he's my husband now_, the thought thrilled and disturbed her.

That was the night he finally planted a baby.

It didn't feel _too_ different from their normal sessions, however when he released himself in her, (his wings beating rapidly) she could feel something odd. She couldn't really describe it but it was like soul was changed. That was the closest way she could express the feeling.

The god licked her clean, the smelled her all over, he raised his head and uttered a long primal howl into the night, at the waning moon. The sound gave Sky Eyes a not-unpleasant-tingle and raised the hair on her arms. The surviving pueblo dwellers heard it and shuddered.

She was pregnant and she didn't even know it. The god hid her in a safe hollow and ordered her to stay. She nodded, still stroking her stomach and wondering what was so different.

Sky Eyes slept awkwardly in the hollow, while the "god" raided the Pueblo and took whatever bodies, parts and possessions he needed. Since his wings could only carry so much it took several tedious trips. No matter, the people would stay away, and he had to prepare for the long term. His cycle was finally broken.

Unsurprisingly Sky Eyes had terrible dreams again.

-------------------------------

The Aftermath.

The survivors looked around with dull haunted eyes. People dead, people mutilated, people not killed by the monster god but merely trampled or killed by stupid human mistakes. A few survivors peeked out from their homes and joined the rest, gazing numbly at everything.

To their surprise their home wasn't destroyed by fire. A few kivas had been blocked, creating smoke and further panic. The Pueblo was largely intact, but it's spirit was gone. People really didn't want to live there anymore. Their home had becomes a death trap, a slaughterhouse.

The dead were hastily buried, broken bodies tucked underneath floors. Most grabbed what they could and _left_, pausing only for the all-important task of disposing of dead loved ones. Some loved ones were never found. Some wish they hadn't found them.

The young mother with twins ran down in horror screaming that her husband had been castrated. He was lying dead on his floor, blood everywhere. The mother screamed it was Sky Eyes, Sky Eyes curse came true. The Brother screamed at her to shut up. There was a sudden epidemic of bad posture among the men of the Pueblo as they hunched over, protecting their valuables as they thought about that poor man's fate.

The Brother, more or less de facto leader now, drafted five cringing men to handle his burial. The all realized during the interment his genitals were no where to be found. They left his pueblo quickly.

The Oldest One's granddaughter and her baby survived, looking and tired but relieved as she tried to persuade her grandmother to come with her. The old woman moaned and shook her head. She was too old, too much of a burden. The young, strapping grandson that usually carried her was gone. The never found him.

"It's the end, it's the end of us, can't you see that?" she asked "I'm done for," the crowd cringed. The old woman began wailing and singing the death song, surprising them all with a traditional death dance. However she collapsed soon afterwards. The buried her next to the Pueblo.

When all was said and done people left quickly, spreading themselves out to relatives in neighboring Pueblos, telling tales of vengeful demons and witches curses. Many left wondering what happened to certain family members. Most left broken, smashed corpses in their home. Hundreds of years later a radically different culture would send it's archeologists to the abandoned Pueblos, probing the dismembered bones in fascination. They would concoct theories of tribal warfare, genocide and cannibalism, but for now the Pueblo stayed empty.

The greatest mystery of all was Sky Eyes mother. Her clothes and shoes were neatly folded and stacked. All her possessions were left behind in the hovel they exiled her to. There was no body, no blood. It was as if she had disappeared.

Some said the demon got her, others said Sky Eyes came back for her. Still others said she had died and disappeared in shame, which is what _they_ would have done. However the rumors soon became quiet, as it became forbidden to speak of Sky Eyes.

Still she wouldn't die. She stayed written in their hearts. They hated her still of course, but deep down they knew they largely brought this on themselves. They didn't share their shame and horror with the younger generation. They kept their lips sealed and the name of Sky Eyes died with them.

The Brother gathered a few remnants. The mother with twins, the Oldest One's Granddaughter and her husband and baby, his beloved brother's widow, (who was badly injured and might not survive), and several others were going with him. They hoped to found a new Pueblo somewhere, away from demons.

The Brother watched his small band set out, they were the last to leave. When they all trailed somberly in from of him he gathered his spear and followed him.

-------------------------------

The first few days after words were sort of a blur. When she awoke she was inside his cave, her former tribesmen were hung from the walls and ceiling, looking down at her. It was not an auspicious beginning to her new life.

Sky Eyes did consider this her "new" life. It was like being reborn; all the senses were overwhelmed by all the new things. Her old home was no more. This was her home now, her life.

Everything seemed indefinably different somehow; it was very hard to explain, even to herself. The night of the massacre seemed to be a line of demarcation, a clear line between her old and new life. And now, she silently admitted this to herself, she had always wanted to go back somehow, be accepted. Now that was impossible.

The days wore on, and the god's interest in her did not wane. Nice as it was Sky Eyes felt she was losing energy. She would leave baskets half woven, clothes half-sewn. The god never seemed to mind. He would bring her the clothes of dead women, (which she tried not to think about) then nudge her to get up and teach him more words or something else new.

Sadness began to take root in her, she didn't know why. Her hands stayed idle, and she let her food go to waste, much to the god's obvious disapproval, her feet grew soft. Sky Eyes whiled away her days by gazing at clouds and waiting for her god-husband to return, reminiscing about her life.

It made no sense, her behavior. Once she was sitting on the ground teaching him how to play a simple childhood game with pebbles in the sand and before she realized it she was crying copiously. Ashamed and taken aback she ran off.

Sky Eyes found herself at the cliff again, watching the eagle returning to its nest with prey and drying her tears. She pondered about what had just happened. After a long period of thought she decided she was depressed about what he had done, as much as she thought they deserved it. The woman also realized she missed her mother terribly. Her mother had taught her to play that game. All the children spit at her when she tried to join in.

All her life she tried to show control, like her mother taught her. Now she felt like a basket with frayed edges. She always hid her true self, her disappointment at her bareness and her general unhappiness at her life by keeping her head down and focusing on her work.

When she went back home she came to god and simply told him "Pueblo." Sighing he picked her up and flew her to her old territory. Flying was still good, still new…but different, like everything. The woman did not ask to pass through any clouds. She sat in solemn silence, her eyes lowered.

The whole place was shockingly empty, she had never seen it like this before, never even _imagined_ it. The desolate Pueblo only increased her melancholy, and Xipe Totec's actions irritated her. He kept his hand on her arm, or grabbed her hand. She wriggled her fingers slightly as her hand went numb, it practically disappeared into his. He growled reflexively and yanked her closer.

"Mother, mother." She called out, wandering through the empty Pueblo. Her voice echoed sadly in the empty rooms. The god sniffed the air and shook his head. Sky Eyes sensed the place was full of ghosts. She broke free his grip and scrambled down the Pueblo wall, he quickly followed her.

Outside the sun was setting and the wind was howling, making angry _WHEEEE-EEE_ sounds as it whistled through rocks. A few crows cawed ominously. Sky Eyes shivered. To her the whole world looked desolate and abandoned, for a moment she could easily believe she was the last human alive. She called for her mother again.

As soon as she did she saw some figures in the distance. Her heart racing she called out to them. She heard a shout in an unfamiliar language and saw spears; these were all men, strange men. Instinctively terrified she ran away. The woman turned and ran to the god, who gladly herded her away.

The whole trip had been pointless, and left Sky Eyes feeling even bleaker than before. That night as she cringed in the enveloping darkness, she cried for her mother and heard horrible screams came from the god's cave.

_That night they came. They always did._

_They had driven out her happy dreams, haunted her thoughts, kept her terrified, even in the day time. Not even her powerful divine protector save her. A whole flood of them came, moaning or screaming, stumbling towards her, pushing past each other to see and grab and haunt Sky Eyes. It was like this every night now. Bloody hands clawed at her._

"_Please leave me alone." She whimpered, begged. "Please leave me alone."_

_Sometimes they were hard to understand, but they became clearer every night. They gave her orders, shouted accusations and curses. They tortured her repeatedly. She couldn't get away._

_There was the hunting party who tried to sacrifice her. Club Foot, The Man in the Cornfield, her Tribe Members. She even saw her old husband, his lower half covered and blood and hatred burned into his eyes. There were also those she didn't recognize, they stretched back like an army, a parade. An endless march of the dead stretching back through time came towards her._

"_Please leave me alone."_

_She knew these people were dead, there was no other explanation. Sometimes they were decapitated or missing limbs. Sometimes their guts hung out. They walked impossibly with shattered pelvises. They reached to her with no hands, or no eyes. A few naked women were among them. They struck her face, calling her a thief._

_Sleep had become an ordeal; even waking had become a nightmare. Sky Eyes knew she was cursed haunted by thousands of ghosts, thousands of ghosts screaming at her. Telling her to do things she didn't want to do._

_Sometimes they simply pleaded, "Help us! Help us!" they screeched. Or they bullied her, calling her the worst names imaginable, far worse than what the tribe called her in their moments of anger. They yanked her hair and ripped at her skin pulling her towards them._

_Their orders were confusing, they served only to bewilder her further and make her sick. "Run! Hide! Help! Coward! Traitor! Witch! Demoness! You should just-"_

_Sky Eyes screamed in horror._

_They had her now. They were shoving her, pushing her toward something._

"_I didn't do anything!" she insisted. This felt like her witchcraft trial all over again, except it was a thousand times worse._

"_You killed us, you __will__ kill us!" the dead insisted Sky Eyes shook her head._

"_Why do you obey him?" came a soft voice. It was the Oldest One's grandson, the one who always carried his grandmother on his back. Sky Eyes couldn't answer, her mouth was too dry. "Did I deserve it?" he asked her softly, reasonably. His throat had been torn out. _

_Sky Eyes felt a wave of misery roll over her. He had never said a bad word to her in his life. He looked at her with soft sad deer eyes._

_The woman knew it was her fault. All her fault, but she tried to reason with the mob of the dead. "He's a god!"_

"_Not a god! Not a god!" they screeched in a worse anger than ever. She felt her body be carried, ripped apart. Her nightmare was reaching a climax. She opened her mouth to scream, she was in the abyss-_

The dream abruptly ended. Sky Eyes felt herself being shaken awake. They were still there though. Thousands of angry invisible ghosts surrounded her, whispering their curses and orders and pleas. All she could do was curl up and cry.

-------------------------------

It was pure torment now. She tried to distract herself. She worked but never finished. She made love to her new husband and cried. The fresh deer meat tasted like ash in her mouth. What little food she did eat soon came rushing back up.

Her former tribe was the worse. She could see what her curse did. It utterly destroyed everyone, even those who didn't deserve it.

She cut her hair off so it was a ragged circle around her face, which she rubbed with ash. She wore dirty clothes. She was a woman in mourning. Sky Eyes acted like a woman who lost her family, who was taken and disgraced by an enemy tribe. The ghosts were still not appeased.

The woman watched as people were slaughtered in front of her. Her teeth ripped her lips and tongue open in her attempt not to scream. Her nails tore at what was left of her hair and skin. Still they were slaughtered.

She did not know any of them, did not recognize their language, but she could see the agony on their faces. She could hear the torment in her voice. Without knowing how or why she knew what they were saying. Pleas of mercy, cries for their mother. When they grabbed her they were begging for help. Sky Eyes could do nothing. The worst part is that she knew they would be in her dreams that night, swelling the ranks of the army of the dead.

She had tried not to sleep, but the ghosts chased her into the daytime. Once, when it rained she was forced inside his cave. Surrounded by his furs, artwork and the beautiful baskets she made for him, she watched the skins and bones and bodies dance in the flickering light created by the burning of foul-smelling fat she knew was human.

_I_ _will not fall asleep, I will not-_ but dreams came to her anyway. The dead people came to life and howled at her. She covered her ears and wept, sobbed for hours on end.

Throughout all of this the god remained the same. Never did he attack, injure of even raise his voice at her. He nudged and smelled and licked her constantly. He invited her to sex or fun or companionship and seemed only disappointed when she failed to respond. He grinned bloody grins at her as he killed, the spirits got angrier and each passing day.

It seemed like their anger physically manifested itself. She looked at her torn skin, her clawed scalp and the bruises on her body in a vague wonder, forgetting she had inflicted these on herself. Even the Xipe Totec was growing uneasy at her random fits. He smelled her quietly and bound her down, wondering what she was doing, hoping she wouldn't hurt the precious cargo within her.

Sky Eyes didn't sleep anymore. Her blue eyes stared wide open every day. Heavy shadows grew underneath them. They saw crows and other birds soaring, they saw Grandmother Earth rushing to embrace her. She spoke whisperingly of these things, as her eyes stared out blindly.

The god twisted his mouth uneasily, he only understood about half of what she said, but it still made no sense. Humans were a mystery, her behavior incomprehensible. He wished she would be more enjoyable, but his nose never lied, something was wrong, she was sick.

It made sense, she looked sick, acted strange, smelled odd. It didn't immediately frighten him, because the sickness didn't smell pervasive or terrible, as it did in those who were truly dying, he figured she would recover, she just needed extra help.

He chose his "help" very carefully. A young woman and a male companion walked made their way carefully through a forest. The woman hummed and sang softly to herself, he paused and listened for a moment (the Breeder had stopped singing for him), the young man leaned on his spear. His eyes wary and alert.

She chanted to some spirit in thanks as she gathered berries. It was necessary but had to be done quietly, as her companion needed to watch her.

It was all so silly, she thought. She was arrogant, ripe, drunk on her own youth, and nothing would happen, nothing would kill her. As long as gave reverence to the gods and her companion looked out for her she would be fine. She hummed/sang happily.

He could smell her, the healthy young animal smell within her. The companion actually smelled more promising, but this wasn't about him. The young woman walked on obliviously.

He needed to be silent, because the young man was alert. They were all alert to his presence now. No huge obstacle.

She had time to scream. Once. Her young man came running to her in an instant, he had time to see her basket shatter and hear her scream fade away into the sky. There was absolutely nothing he could do. He wailed in agony.

He found the Breeder by the cliff. She went there often to stare out into its abyss. The Breeder seemed almost mesmerized by it. It was her favorite spot; she went there often when he went hunting. He saw no harm in it.

Her unusual eyes were wide as she beheld the struggling screaming woman. Sky Eyes recognized her tribal tattoos; the strange woman threw herself at her, babbling incomprehensibly. Sky Eyes shook her head, she didn't know her language.

Xipe Totec withdrew his obsidian knife, Sky Eyes fled in terror, as she usually did. This time however the god grabbed her. _What is he __doing_ She thought in terror. He sat on the ground calmly, holding the struggling woman with his feet, and holding Sky Eyes easily in one hand.

As expected the knife came down, slowly. It wasn't a stab or a thrust aimed at anything vital, it was a slice.

The woman's eyes bulged out in shock. Sky Eyes could see the disbelief written on her face. She could hardly believe it herself, but what happened next was unimaginatively worse. She saw him grinning as he held the strip of fresh meat to her. Sky Eyes screamed in terror and tried to jerk violently away. He held her patiently and forced the flesh into her mouth. He held her nose and mouth shut until she swallowed, nearly passed out.

"Xipe Totec" held both struggling women easily as he sliced up one and fed her to the other. Part of a breast. The soft underside of an arm. Her full cheeks. The god carefully picked out soft delicious parts to feed to his Breeder. He ignored the two's terrified shrieking-one of pain the other of disgust- and continued to feed the blue eyed woman scraps as patiently and diligently as a mother bird. It was an image amplified by his occasional chewing of the flesh and forcing it via the mouth down Sky Eyes throat like a perversion of a kiss.

The woman finally, mercifully seemed to be dying when he cut her open and began feeding Sky Eyes choice womanly parts. (Appropriate enough given her condition, he reasoned). He even fed her tidbits of heart. Not too much, enough to make her feel better. Sky Eyes was nearly passed out anyway.

She didn't remember being carried back to the cave, or the woman being fed to the crows. All she knew is that her stomach war burning, churning to pass up that most taboo of foods. She was tainted now, beyond evil, totally beyond redemption.

Sky Eyes actually prayed for an end.

_She was in the Spirit World, again. The army of the dead were all there, and all menacingly silent. Sky Eyes trembled._

_The dead began to speak, softly. They told she was evil, tainted, worthless, doomed. One of them grabbed her arm, "he's not a god." He hissed. "He's not Xipe Totec." Run away. They ordered. Get rid of yourself. He will turn on you._

_Sky Eyes cried, not knowing what to do._

_Suddenly, the whispers abruptly ceased in one, unanimous hiss. A strange man stepped forward. He was wearing his own skin. This victim looked truly dreadful, one of the worst she had seen. He gazed at her sadly._

"_Sky Eyes" he said in a not unkind voice, and laid a gnarled mangled hand on her head. She tried not to cringe. "Child." He said fondly. "I am __**so**__ sorry for no being able tot return to you." Since he was not cruel Sky Eyes listened to his apologizing patiently._

_Suddenly she knew who he was._

"_Father," she whimpered in realization. She could see herself through the mangled mess. He favored her with a twisted, broken smile._

_She had been a few days old when he left and never came back. She suddenly realized for the first time she had been born when the god last appeared. She was too frightened and confused to question why his cycle seemed delayed, or ask the same thing of herself. Her father and reportedly left the Pueblo after her birth and never returned. That meant-_

_She looked at him in sudden horrifying realization. He nodded and said almost casually, "I'm over you right now, where you sleep."_

_This didn't make Sky Eyes feel any better._

_He spoke to her seriously. "Daughter, I want you to run, run away from the demon as far and as fast you can." Sky Eyes shook her head, more in confusion than anything, he grabbed her arm with broken fingers, his gaze frightened her. "I was returning, he killed me, your demon killed me." His grip hurt and Sky Eyes struggled. "He's not a god, he does not-can not love you, you __**must**__ run." He ordered. _

The Spirit World faded away. She was in the cave again.

Sky Eyes crawled out slowly (not looking up at her father's skin) she crawled outside, it was windy. Without knowing why she began to run. She ran screaming, fleeing into the wilderness. Anywhere but here.

As she ran she stumbled, then fell, but still struggled on. Her knees were scraped open and thorns had dug themselves into her pawns. She cried in pain, but mostly misery. She finally fell for the last time. Sick and confused.

The vomit was coming up before she realized what was happening. The vomit was thick and red, mixed with blood. Whether it was her blood or the woman's she didn't know. It poured out in successive painful waves, the most horrifying sickness she ever had. It burned her throat, came up through her nose. Sky Eyes howled in pain.

"MAMMA!" she screamed. She knew it must have sounded childish. She didn't care. She wanted her more than anything in the world right now. She needed some one to talk to, someone who actually cared about her, who had her best interests at heart. All she had now was venom and confusion and pain.

She didn't know where her mother was, she didn't visit her in the Spirit World, maybe she died and wasn't buried properly. Ohhh, what if she was eaten? What if the god wanted to feed her mother to her? Sky Eyes rapidly grew sick again. She vomited one last time and rocked back and forth whimpering, "mamma, mamma." The woman tore at her own skin and pulled out what was left of her hair.

Sniffing, she stumbled along, still murmuring for her mother. She didn't know what to do, so she just ran like they ordered her to, like they were commanding her now. She was so confused.

Maybe it was a bad spirit; maybe it had escaped from Club Foot's head and entered hers. That's what if felt like. Maybe she really was a witch whose hatred conjured up death and destruction. Now she knew it would destroy her. She kept running, trying to escape. She ran to her favorite spot.

"What do I DO!?" She screamed to the nothingness around her. Her voice seemed to echo back.

A vision slowly appeared to her: a soaring eagle. It was soaring to the heavens.

Sky Eyes knew what to do.

All her life she wanted to be a bird, to fly, to escape the miserable world her difference had caused her. What seemed like a nightmare evolved slowly into a dream, but every second the dream threatened to turn back into a nightmare. Sometimes it did, but her world would try to fool itself into thinking all was love and happiness again. Inevitably it would return into the nightmare. Now the nightmare wouldn't stop, wouldn't end. She just wanted to wake up.

Love and passion turned seemingly into hate, beauty into ugliness, birds became evil crows, and wonderful clouds turned into cold mist, flying had turned into falling.

Grandmother Earth came rushing up to greet her.

The god that wasn't a god but something far more unknowable and mysterious saw it happening. He didn't realize it until it was too late. Even his wings couldn't stop it. In one heartbeat he knew it was over.

The blue-eyed Breeder had thrown herself of a cliff.

Still he spiraled down to her rapidly. She lay broken on the valley floor. She wasn't quite dead yet. Her slender legs stood out crookedly, some ribs poked through as she wheezed her last breath. He saw her unusual eyes gaze at him before she sputtered something incomprehensible. The woman didn't explain her actions, or even attempt some last clichéd declaration of eternal love. He heard her death rattle. Her blue eyes glazed over.

The monster whined softly in confusion.

He really couldn't understand it. What? Why? He had no answers. He prodded her body gently, nothing answers issued forth from it.

The monster didn't cry or scream or do anything else to indicate grief. He hunched over her, sniffing occasionally. She continued to stare blindly at him in death. There was a bit of blood on her chin. When the crows came he shooed them away.

He tried and failed to comprehend. Humans were innately self-destructive after all. That's all the explanation he had. He had liked her, he really did, but she was dead and gone, and that was that.

He hovered over her like this for an hour, keeping away the greedy scavengers and not eating. After an hour he smelled, or just sensed that their last connection was gone. What was inside of her was dead too, gone forever. As such his bond with her died to.

Smelling her slowly he came to her eyes. They were very pretty, her best feature. Gently he pulled them out, the optic nerves snapping. With one gulp he swallowed them both down. To his surprise the world didn't look much different through them. Maybe they seemed more sensitive to bright light, but no major differences.

The rest of her was not innately useful. She had grown appalling thin and weak. He picked over her bones for dinner, then left. The crows descending on what was left of the woman known as Sky Eyes.

He had to prepare, with his offspring gone his cycle had resumed. He could feel his old adversary, sleep, crouching in the near future, waiting to capture him. He had to prepare his spot, and then sleep until another generation was ready.

-------------------------------

Sky Eyes died and was largely lost. Whispered, distorted rumors still spoke of witches and gods, but she had died unlamented by humans. Her body corrupted and her bones turned to dust until she was finally blown away.

She had died without knowing her greatest wish had been fulfilled. That wish died with her.

The monster returned, generation after generation, as he had for an eternity. Terrified stories and legends accompanied him, now speaking of a demon with eyes that could strike a man dead. Eyes that glowed in the sun and captured the sky within them. Those few left who had remembered Sky Eyes trembled and went white with fear.

The tribe of cliff dwellers that his Breeder was born into continued to be hunted and eaten. He found no more breeders within them though. The bad luck he brought eventually became just a small taste of what was to come. A massive, terrible drought and aggressive nomadic tribes to the north eventually drove them southwest, and he never saw or smelled them again. The same drought eventually sent him to farther east, where prey was more plentiful.

It was a very long time before he saw eyes like hers again. Until then he largely forgot about her. Breeders where that rare. When he saw suicides and sacrifices and the same mindlessly destructive human behavior his mind drifted back to those few short happy months, and how they ended in insane terrified confusion. When he learned what a _nightmare _was he thought of her, but she had largely faded from his memory.

**This memory comes back to me like all others. I can see the warning signs now. I see them in my newest breeder. I know I must stop this. I don't understand how and why, humans are silly and foolish and disparaging, especially to themselves. But I won't allow this. She is mine. Any woman who smells like her is mine.**

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A/N: See, this is the problem with relationships nowadays. It's communication. Too much communication. ;-p

Sky Eyes is actually based on a small unnamed character in the fic "The Acolyte, AKA The Other Other Half." She appears in the Creepers memory in Chapter Nine, obviously she's the woman who jumps off a cliff. (Bows before red's brilliance) So if you feel the need to do some "backseat writing" and nag me for killing off a character you liked go yell at redplanetes first. She'll probably kill you, which is my plan.

Her tribe is largely based on (okay ripped off) the Anasazi tribe. The mythology is based half-assedly on Wikipedia-researched Southwestern native stories with a hint of Aztec. Her pale "god" ancestors are of course Vikings, who are rumored to have reached the North American coast long before Columbus.

/History geek mode off now


	18. Chapter 18

I'm feeling much better. The boy in my dreams has been helping a lot. The fact that the Creeper is leaving me alone is helping me even more. I finish the last ear of corn. I have no more food left. My water is almost gone. And I'm filthy.

I sighed and scratched my head, digging around for Wet Ones or something. I search in vain through my damp bags. My clothes are everywhere. I scratch my scalp again.

My illness is almost totally gone, however I'm still stuck with the yucky weak feeling one is left with after a ravaging sickness. Not to mention everything is damp or wet, and starting to smell, I feel gross as ever, I'm being held captive in a horrific torture chamber of death by a raping inhuman monster.

And the goddamn itching is killing me.

"God-DAMNIT fucking hell, stupid-ass..." I mumble frustrated, pointless curses as I tear open everything and scatter it messily. Of _course_ the cleaning tissue is at the bottom of my bag. Grateful that they're sealed and the filthy rainwater didn't affect them I eagerly open one and give myself a quick rubdown. It's not nearly as effective as a nice warm bath-I allow the blissful fantasy of actually having one- and finish cleaning myself as best I could.

Much better, I think-except-I scratch my head again. It's really bothering me, really driving me nuts over the past few days. In pure anger and frustration I literally began tearing at myself, pulling my hair and clawing at my skin, trying to will the uncomfortable itching to stop.

Suddenly I feel an iron grip on my wrist and a harsh tug as my hand is pulled away from my head. I look up and surprise and see the Creeper forcibly stopping me. His eyes are wide and reproachful. I realize he's scolding me. Without words he's telling me not to do it.

I yank my hand away and twist my mouth. "Fuck you," I mutter, I can feel ugly black rage bubble slowly up inside of me, but fear and common sense keep it in line. I restrain myself.

Disdainfully he prods a pair of underwear that I've thrown around and nudges it back to me. Now slightly embarrassed I start to gather my scattered clothes and stuff them with little enthusiasm back into my bag. He glances at me then settles at his desk to carve something idly. I sigh and fall back onto my now dirty straw, trying to get comfortable.

It's hard; my weight shifts around like it never has before. I watch in growing horror at my stomach as I see the large growth affecting my center of gravity. Miserable I lay on my side and try to pretend the monster isn't there. I rest one hand on my swelling belly. I scratch my head with the other.

Later

Besides biting my lips, scratching myself and pulling at my cumbersome hair I found a new way to amuse myself-jabbing my stomach.

I lift up my nightshirt, prod it poke it, sigh and rest my hands on it. Occasionally I press against it, like I'm trying to flatten it, as if I can make it disappear. I take my notebook and hug it against myself, pressing down on it, doing it until the pain and discomfort is too much to bear.

He's been noticing, and keeping himself annoyingly close. Since I really have nothing to do but sit here and verbally abuse him we both have to endure each others presence. However it's the touching I can't stand.

"Get the hell away from me!" I snarl and shove him. He grabs my hands and holds them together. I immediately start screaming and fighting. Growling he grabs my face and forces me to look at him. In sheer obstinacy I draw my eyes away.

Sighing with the infinite patience of a parent he holds my face steady and my wrists together. He's waiting for me to look at him. Giving in, (I just want him to go away!) I look directly into his eyes.

It's so weird, they're so familiar, but so different. I feel almost hypnotized.

Breaking the spell he begins to speak. It's like listening to rusty hinges never used often. Like before he seems to be have a hard time conveying exactly what he wants, but I quickly gather it in a few minutes.

"Screw you!" I hiss, "I'll do whatever I want!" and immediately try to squirm away and retreat somewhere into the shadows of this dank awful building. Of course he doesn't allow me. He holds me captive so easily it's pitiful. I try to stop fighting.

The monster made an angry motion just above my left shoulder, as if he wanted to swat me but did it to the air instead. He grabbed some ubiquitous rope and bound my hands together. "Fuckyougotofuckinghell!" I screamed incoherently and thrashed wildly, I must have looked insane, I _felt_ insane. I'm sure I was frothing.

Still no matter how angry and powerful I got I still couldn't fight him. However he only tied my arms together, then led a rope to my ankles. He pointed to my scratches and loose hair and firmly shook his head. Then he left, my anger deflated. I could do nothing but lay uselessly on my increasingly filthy bed and watch my stomach get bigger.

And try and scratch my scalp.

A Few Days Later

_Well there's one mystery solved._

My horror and disgust threatens to overwhelm me. I clutch at hair and gaze at my pale thin face in the mirror. I feel like screaming. I feel like throwing up. I feel so unclean.

I have lice.

_Oh God how can this happen?!_ I think in repulsion. I claw furiously at myself, knowing I'm only making it worse. My long hair is absolutely appalling; I can see it even in the small shard of glass I'm using as a mirror. Even through my abject misery I logically answered my own question. I've been sick, dirty, my long hair lying on a filthy damp floor, it was inevitable.

That still doesn't stop me from crying.

I know it was stupid, I mean I knew it even in the midst of my absolute uncontrollable tears, but really I couldn't help it. After a short while I calmed myself down.

It was just lice, yeah it was gross but at home all it would take was a thorough washing with pesticides and some combing. But I couldn't do that here, I couldn't do anything unless the Creeper allowed me to. That's when I realized it wasn't the lice _it was the lice on top of everything else._

Suddenly I felt angry, not weepy. I jumped up, _screw the Creeper_, I grabbed the shard of mirror and went over to his desk. Finding a big sharp knife wasn't exactly hard. I lean the mirror against an empty space on the wall.

The corpses are looking at me. This is the first time in days I've really noticed them. They all seem so grey and pathetic and dusty. _Don't look, don't look_. I think, although my eyes are drawn almost magnetically towards them. Something in the back of my mind is tugging at me to do it. I fight the urge and focus on my hair. I grab a fist full of it.

It's so long, almost past my waist now. I used to be a little vain about it, I'm not that pretty but my hair was always unusually long. It grows fast, La Cizaña, they used to call me, because my hair grew like a weed.

_It'll grow back,_ I tell myself. I lift up a big chunk of it and hold the knife to it.

A sudden harsh sound causes me to turn around and nearly drop the knife. The Creeper is standing wide eyed on the threshold, he's looking absolutely shocked and horrified, and it's almost funny. He dropped the body part he holding and marched toward me.

Now I'm feeling nervous, I brandish the big knife, "Go. Away." I snap. He still comes toward me and grabs the knife in a flash. We wrestled for it slightly. He was winning.

I knew he would get it eventually, so I backed away quickly and clutched at my hair, screaming at him: "You gave me lice you disgusting freak!" I shrieked as I threw the knife at him. I hold up my wretched hair and tear at it. He grabs me.

"You don't understand," I moaned, "I need to shave my head, it's the only way I can get rid of it."

Still he doesn't respond, he holds me still, sniffing me intently. He draws back slightly when he's done smelling my hair.

"Yes" I grumble irritably, "I have a lice infestation, now will you let me get rid of it already!?"

He refuses to give me the knife or anything else. Instead he pulls out a small jar of something from his desk and motions me over. I come over very uneasy and reluctant. Abruptly he poured the clear liquid on my head.

Instinctively I closed my eyes and gasped. Fumes from the liquid started to make me dizzy, I swayed slightly. The liquid was cool and burning at the same time. I could feel it closing my self-inflicted wounds on my scalp. After a tentative inhale through my nose I realized it was kerosene.

For one irrational moment I though he was going to set me on fire. I snapped open my eyes quickly and looked at him. He wasn't about to immolate me, instead he raised his hands and imitated washing hair. Hesitantly I rubbed the kerosene in. He nodded slightly, a smile of clear relief on his face. He grabbed another bottle and started rubbing it into my long hair, working swiftly.

Having kerosene in your hair is very unpleasant, but it stopped the itching. It was more unpleasant to have the Creeper so close to me. I winced slightly as I felt his claws graze me, but he didn't scratch me, didn't hurt me at all.

After a third bottle was rubbed into my hair he finally stopped. It was very smelly and unpleasant but I endured. He sniffed his hands with a frown and walked out of the room. Then he returned with a jug of water. Where he got it I didn't know, he offered it to me.

It smelled slightly dirty and rusty, but I wasn't going to drink it so I carefully bent over and rinsed the kerosene from my hair and clothes. The monster gathered his body parts and ate them watching me. I watched back with a sort of dispassionate disgust.

I suddenly realized something. I could look into his eyes-the boy's eyes-without fear anymore.

After a moment of this he laughed and turned away. After a while I did too, I returned to my bed.

My bed… It probably loaded with the little bastards. The straw was certainly dirty enough; subconsciously I began to itch again. Disdainfully I kick it all the damp, dirty hay aside with foot. My bags too, God knows how many are in my clothes, although I've only worn these for like a week.

Suddenly I'm very paranoid, I feel like there's filth everywhere. I scratch at my arms. I'm tainted, that's how I feel. The clean feeling I got from my stupid little rain shower is long gone. I would kill for a hot bath.

He's growling, grabbing me with his bloody hands. I kick him. He looks me with those brown eyes. They look slightly old, weathered. The edges of them are starting to look bloodshot. I wonder how long ago he stole them. The monster points to the scratches on my arms, I haven't made them bleed, but the scratches are clearly there. He licks them.

"No more." He tells me.

I don't know how to respond to that.

Dream

_I love dreaming. It's so much better that reality_

_The boy is with me. We're like old friends now we share everything. Usually he looks very normal, like an average everyday kid. Occasionally his corpse state peeks through, when he loses control of himself._

_I still can't talk to my mother. I don't know why, I just can't._

_I know he's real, not a delusion of mine, still doubt and curiosity plague my mind. I ask a lot about him. I ask what it's like to be dead. My curiosity becomes a roaring fire. Does it hurt? Is there a heaven? Does it hurt to die? Does it hurt to be dead? He tolerates my curiosity with amusement answering as best he can, but since this another entirely state of being I guess he can't describe it._

_I'm disappointed. How can any human being not wonder about death?_

_However it's my questions about him that have the most surprising answers._

"_You already know me." He told me. "You've seen me, heard of me. You know who I am."_

"_I have? I do?" I say taken aback. "When? Where?" I eagerly demand. Then I realize something. "What's your name?" I ask._

_He says nothing just smiles, his eyes are gone again._

I wake up off the cold hard floor. The smell of kerosene still strongly clings to me. I wake up panting slightly. Then I frown. Something seems familiar…

I get up, stiff and sore, to look around for my pocket flashlight. I find it easily; it's still on the keys in my backpack. I flick it on. All the corpses are dark and eerie looking. But I can't help to stop and stare.

They are so sad, expressions range from fear to shock to anger to despair, as if he wanted to gleefully capture their last moments. I blanch in disgust and pity. I know it's here, even if I don't know exactly what I'm looking for.

After slowly searching the "mannequins" looking at each face one by one I see him. He's hanging above the desk, a place of honor, naked like all the others. His belly button is missing, I know it's him.

I remember his voice, it echoes in my ears: _I died, right in this room_. He's been here the whole time; those gaping holes in his face seem to be actually taking in everything. He stood like a silent sentinel above everything in this room. A witness to my resistance, my illness, my rape.

I know it's dumb but suddenly I'm ashamed. I didn't want him to see everything.

Still I continue to look at him, fascinated. He is real. I'm not going insane. He once existed, and he died a terrible death. His face is largely expressionless, since with out his eyes the Creeper could give him much expression. However I can see the blood and claw marks, his mouth hangs slightly open.

A sudden sound next to me makes me jump.

It's the Creeper, he's looking at the corpse with-weirdly enough-a sort of fond remembrance on his face. He continues looking, then kind of tilts his head side to side, a gesture someone will do when they're struggling to remember something. I watch him silently. Then I see the realization in his head _Ah!,_ he turns to me noticing my unabashed curiosity. "Darius Jenner" he says in his rough gravelly voice.

"Darius? Dari-" Then I abruptly stop. I remember!

I can feel the blood drain from my face. I'm looking right at him, the boy from only half-believed rumors and urban legends. Darry Jenner!

I've heard of him of course, the whole story became a campfire legend practically, I always wondered if it was real. A scrap of song comes to me. _Late at night/When you're sleeping/That's when Creeper comes a-creeping/Big, awful and scary/He'll get you like he got Darry! _

It was an old childhood song; I think we sang it while jumping rope, or something.

I walk like I'm still in a dream towards him and touch his corpse. His foot is hard, like petrified wood. He's real. For the second time reality seems to have shifted. I don't know what to make of it.

Then I suddenly get angry.

"How could you do this?!" I demanded, smoldering. "How could you just-just-" I can't say it. The horror of it suddenly dawns on me. _He __**had**__ his __**eyes**__ ripped out._

The Creeper looks at me with a bemused expression. I think he honestly didn't understand. This shocked me. I gestured to Darius's corpse. "Why?!" I demanded, nearly on the verge of tears.

He took two fingers, pointed them to Darry then to his own eyes, smiling. "Good eyes." Another thrill of horror rushes up my spine. I really couldn't comprehend it. Nothing in my life has ever really prepared me for this. Sure I've heard of serial killers, rapists sadists. People who destroy other people's lives. People with no empathy. I had been taught when I was small to not get into cars with strangers, given mace when I was older. All the good cautious behavior responsible parents instill in their children. Still all that stuff was an abstract, it didn't apply to me. I realized then how truly innocent and happy I once was. It didn't make me feel any better.

"Why?!" I ask again in anguish, not really understanding. "Why, why do you hate us?"

The Creeper looked utterly bewildered.

Then he considers. He takes a step forward. "Hate you?" he asks amused, suddenly he grabs me and pushes his nose against mine briefly. He breathes in my scent for the millionth time, and he moans in ecstasy like the first time. Then settles his eyes on me again. He rubs his nose against mine.

"_Like_ you." He insisted.

Later

I've been thinking about what he said. It's so hard to understand his mindset. I can tell he has trouble understanding me.

In a weird way, it's like culture shock, but instead of being confronted with a human being raised in a foreign environment and thus having different values and assumptions then me, I'm confronted with a world view that isn't even human. He's free of typical human assumptions, prejudices, hatreds, beliefs, hopes, ideals, decency, love… I shake my head. It's like dealing with an alien.

I don't know exactly what he is. I look around the room again, at the corpses trying to divine answers from them. He preserves them, keeps them around, to take pleasure from their pain? Or was it something else?

I look at Darius Jenner, the boy from the myth, I look at his body, now he's just a hollowed out shell, preserved and hung like art. He was so young, probably only a few older than me. He was killed for his eyes, and kept because he _likes_ us?

I can see it now. He may prey on us; cause us untold fear and misery. Maybe even look down on us for all our faults, but in a weird sick, twisted way, he likes us.

Darius Jenner, dead but preserved for an eternity. His fleeting life captured forever in this grotesque image. It's like something out of a myth, the immortal inviting the handsome youth to share in immortality, albeit dying to obtain it. He liked Darry; he wanted to keep him around. Even now I can see a glimmer of his youth and beauty sealed in death, disrespectfully used as a decoration, but used with affection nonetheless.

I began to understand his mindset.

---------------------

_Darry was setting his plan into motion._

_It would take time; all the while she would suffer at his hands. He felt regret, but nothing could be done at that. _

_He drafted allies transcended through the barrier between worlds, plotted and schemed against his killer. He would make him suffer as much as that thing could suffer. He vowed it._

_The dead shouldn't hold grudges, but like most things humans shouldn't do he did it anyway. Besides, he couldn't leave Maria at his mercy. He had to do something. He loved her, he loved her like he loved Tricia._

_The dead can influence the living, even if it's mostly oh-so-subtle and inaccurate manipulation. But it has been done. The native woman who fell into the Creeper's hands proved that. Even now her sad echo reached Darry through the past, coming up from beneath a deep cliff._

_He spoke to her through dreams. Since sleep was like death the afterlife was like dreams._

_Giselle Gay Hartman was with him. After the gruesome deaths she was forced to witness she had been granted a remarkably peaceful death in her sleep. She felt a very brief crushing pressure on her chest one night and then there was utter serenity. Darry was the first one to welcome her._

"_You know what to do." He said quietly to her._

_Maria's mother was in agony, she thought she was in hell. She prayed to God, the Virgin, anyone. She knew what was happening to her daughter, but she couldn't stop it. If she were alive she would have ripped the monster's head off. With her bare hands._

"_It'll be okay, Mrs Adams" Darius promised._

_Sometimes he saw his sister. He came to her in dreams as a comfort. However he never said anything to her. He was just checking on her. Made sure everything was alright._

_Now he would break his own rule. He came to her in her sleep; he saw her eyes grow wide. He saw how she had aged while he stayed the same. He gave her the words that would set everything in motion. He saw his sister's eyes grow wide with horror._

On Highway 9

He was driving along, keeping a good look out, because that's what he had been trained to do, but he was also a bit relaxed. The highway was utterly empty, he turned on his radio. A song warbled out like a premonition:

_I see, the bad moon a-rising.  
I see, trouble on the way.  
I see, earthquakes and lightnin'.  
I see, bad times today._

_Don't go around tonight,  
Well, its bound to take your life,  
There's a bad moon on the rise_

A song he liked yet he felt a very slight discomfort at it. He rechecked his mirrors and felt the pistol strapped to his side. The one he always carried. Nothing looked unusual. The road was empty. Everything looked completely normal. Still…

_Hope you, have got your things together.  
Hope you, are quite prepared to die.  
Looks like, we're in for nasty weather.  
One eye, is taken for an eye._

The drive was utterly uneventful.

The song wound down as he pulled in to his driveway. Good familiar place, the farm had been in his family as long as any one could remember. He gazed around appreciatively at it.

A sudden swift movement caught his eye. He spun around. It was his mother.

"Don't sneak up on me Ma," he hugged her and shepherded her back into the house. "You should be resting."

His mother didn't argue, didn't roll her eyes or call him paranoid. Her face was a grim mask. Her grey hair, tinged slightly with what must have been a once stunning blond, hung limply around her face. She looked very frail.

Inside the house, she gazed at her son. He immediately sensed something important.

"He's back." She whispered.

He didn't need to ask who "He" was.

"Are, are you sure?" he asked his mother. "How do you know?"

The old woman looked at him with the same solemn expression. "My friend told me." She said simply. Like all rational people he had an instant shot of disbelief go though him, but he knew his mother wasn't crazy or lying. He had seen too much to disbelieve her.

Suddenly he felt as old as his mother.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to do this." She advised him. He shook his head. "I have to." He said simply. No mention of his father. He knew he just had to.

"Please, please be careful." His mother begged. He could clearly see love in her eyes.

"I will." He promised. "Always have." She watched sadly as he went to the barn.

It was still there. He pulled the tarp off, dust threatened to choke him. Daddy-long legs scattered in panic, their webs scattered everywhere. It was still here, everything he had inherited. He checked it thoroughly, wiped it off. He would test everything tonight.

Time for the hunter to become the hunted.


	19. Chapter 19

Sometime in November

All the corn is gone. Not just the ones he brought me, all of it is gone, everywhere. The fields look bleakly empty.

The Creeper says nothing; he merely gazes out in the empty fields with me. I really can't tell what he's thinking. He's probably rarely seen empty fields like this. As if to underscore the situation my stomach rumbles for its breakfast.

We both say nothing and turn to go back inside the building.

Later

I'm watching him doing something to the roof of the room we're in. Sometimes I watch him, some times I look at Darry's dusty corpse. The corpse gapes at me silently.

Today I tried to talk to him, I remember that vision or hallucination I had shortly before…I don't want to talk about it, but I remember seeing the bodies. I remember how alive they seemed. They were trying to warn me.

I touched Darry's corpse again, it certainly doesn't feel like a body, it's very rigid, almost brittle though. I could smell preservation fluid. It smells like a frog in biology class.

Suddenly I blink back tears. I feel so sorry for him, all of them. I think about trying to get the body down. "I should probably bury you," I whisper

The corpse doesn't answer back.

I hear a noise behind me. The Creeper suddenly grabs me and lifts me off my desk, he smells me again. He looked into my face as if asking what I was doing.

I don't answer him either way, just wander off. I can see him still looking at me.

Lately he's been doing something to the building, I don't know what. Sometimes I hear him on the roof just above me. Today I saw him cutting pieces of wood. I really don't care what he's doing.

Still feeling morose I wander up the stairs I went too earlier. If anything they seem crumbly and unstable as before. Of course everything is wet. I didn't think it was possible, but this place smells even worse after the rain, and that must have been a while ago. I don't know how long I was out sick.

I'm really depressed, the early morning overcast and bleak fields isn't helping my mood. I look out at all of this from the window. It seems very far down, very far away.

I peer out the window.

I know what I can do, I just don't know if I can do it. The ground tilts dizzily away from me. It could only take a second; it would only hurt for a second. Then I would be free.

Already I feel conflicted. There aren't voices in my head, just flashes of feeling. Encouraging me to do it, encouraging not to do it, now I just feel confused, I want to jump, but I don't want to die. I lean out; sometimes I wish I'd never been born at all.

I don't know how long I stared. It could have been a second or a half hour. I felt hypnotized.

I almost fell out in surprise when I felt a hand on me. However the hand kept a firm grip and pulled me safely into the building.

It's the Creeper of course. His grip feels like iron. I look into his face. He doesn't seem exactly angry, but I can tell he's not pleased, his eyes are wide and they're glaring into mine. Suddenly I feel abashed and ashamed, I keep my head down.

He guides me very carefully down the stairs, then steers me into the "office". He keeps his grip on me; I'm starting to feel uncomfortable so I try to squirm out of it. Instantly his grip tightens and his other hand grabs my arm. "Hey," I gasp and start to struggle, the iron grip only tightens. Suddenly a bolt of fear shoots through me.

He merely sets me down and locks the door, then turns back to whatever he's doing. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Has several wooden beams throughout the "office" Some look professionally made, fresh off of a construction site, others look little more than thick, hacked-off branches. I watch, now interested, as he carefully sets them through out the room.

Something clicks, and I suddenly realize what he's doing. These are support beams; he's trying to give the roof above us some support. Suddenly I jump in panic.

He's been giving me uneasy glances all the time he's working now he stops and looks at me. "I want to leave," I tell him and rattle the door like a cage. Now everything seems weak and unstable. "I want to leave now."

He grabs me again; he's probably thinking I'm trying to escape. I stop struggling. I'm afraid but not of him.

"This building," I ask him slowly, calmly, "is it weak?" I ask. He suddenly realizes my concern, and releases me. I can see relief on his face. Still his hand lingers, I try to ignore it. He nods, "Dripping, unsafe," he gestures to the support beams.

"Then I want-" I try to protest but he cuts me off, anticipating what I'm going to say. "Leaving soon." He promised, and continued his work swiftly. I uneasily resigned myself. I realized then how much I've utterly hated this place.

It's funny. One moment I'm seriously contemplating suicide, the next I'm worried that a building will fall on me.

I gather my things; my once neatly packed bags are bulging with wet, smelly clothes. They all seem too heavy and numerous. The Creeper has some moldy moth eaten old thing he throws some knives tools, and books into. I try to suppress my giggles, as the thing looks suspiciously like an old purse.

He leads me slowly through this wet, dripping hell hole. I staggered after him, being weighed down by my bags. He looks at them disapprovingly. I can't help but agree with him, but still I get angry. I wasn't exactly planning on living with him. I keep the anger inside.

We come to the truck, looking ugly as ever. He opens the back doors, I move forward, eager to dump my stuff.

"Ohh eeeew." I gasp and immediately draw back. A horrible foul smell assaults me. I nearly vomit and back away in disgust. The Creeper moves forward frowning. He pokes around through the crap in the back, his nose twitching. He homes in on the scent and pulls out something and shows it to me triumphantly.

It smells terrible; at first I think it's a glove. Then I see it's a severed hand, black and rotted and bloated. I wrinkle my nose and turn away. He holds it up grinning almost triumphantly. He smells it, brings it right up to his nose. "Ripe!" he says. I shudder and back away.

He sniffs then tosses the hand away, evidently too far gone to be edible. I move cautiously to the truck again, holding my breath, with some difficulty I heave my bags up.

Before I realize it, before I could even control myself I spun around quick as lightning. I raise my hands, one protecting my face one hitting and pushing away the Creeper, who merely looks annoyed and puzzled. Frantically I get myself out between him and the truck then hysterically babble something about "getting the other bags," and run off into the building.

Only when I feel safe inside do I slowdown, panting rapidly, I put my hand to my chest, my heart is beating so fast! I am terrified.

Why? I walk a bit more slowly to the "office." At first I don't know why. I simply freaked out shoved the monster away and ran. I can't explain it. I just lost it for a minute.

However as I come to the threshold of the "office" and replay the scene in my head I think I suddenly realize. The Creeper had positioned himself behind my back while I faced the truck. The last time that happened he pushed me on it and violated me. His shadow, his breathing, his smell, all triggered a deep set terror.

I finally calm down as I gather the last of my things. I don't know if he was planning on doing it again, but I reacted automatically. I stack my bags and glance up.

Darius Jenner's corpse is gaping at me.

A terrible sadness comes; suddenly I don't want to leave. I'll stay in this building even if collapses onto me. I sit on the Creeper's desk and touch the corpse, glancing over my shoulder; I can stay a little longer. I talk to Darry.

"Thank you," I tell him. I'm afraid, if I leave will he not be able to talk to me? It's a terrible thought. Gently I touch where his navel was, wondering why the monster wanted it. "Stay with me please." I begged him. "I'll go insane, I'll kill myself-" a slight hoarse sound interrupts me. Ignoring the crawling tingle of fear in the back of my neck I turn to see the Creeper again, who doesn't look happy.

He jerks his head toward the exit. I frown but reluctantly follow, however I hesitate while picking up my bags and gaze at the corpse. The Creeper nudges me impatiently. Suddenly I have an idea.

"Please," I beg him wildly. "Please let me bury him," I gesture to Darry's corpse

The monster snorts, seeing my request as ridiculous, he nudges me impatiently again. I procrastinate, looking desperately at the corpse. Sighing in irritation he grabs the rest of my bags and herds me out of the room. I look over my shoulder, trying to fill my gaze with Darius. In half a second he's gone.

I just wanted to repay him for his kindness.

It's still gloomy outside, but clearing up. It must be around noon. The crows are cawing, I can see a few gathered around the old hand. The monster pushes me into his truck. His ugly face peers into my side window at me for a second then he circles around.

I pause in thought; I could open the car door and run while he's still temporarily outside. My hands itch towards the handle; however a sudden small sharp pain in my swollen belly discourages me. I can't run, he will catch me.

A second later the car heaves as he gets in, he starts the engine. He turns to me and grins as he revs it repeatedly, suggestively. I try not to look at his face. He guns it suddenly and drives recklessly onto Highway 9. Hastily I search for a seatbelt; it has no buckle just a frayed edge. I hurriedly tie it to the seat.

He's driving recklessly fast. I open my mouth, and then close it, realizing the absurdity of telling him about speed limits. He drives on.

I'm happy I'm finally out of that place, sad I had to leave Darius.

We drive across bleak landscapes. Sometimes in the distance I'll see buildings, farm houses probably. Soon I become bored. It's like any other road trip. I sigh and lean against the window.

Sometime later we find a car.

Instantly I perk up, so does he. As we approach it at a shocking speed I see more clearly. It's a truck, bigger than the Creeper's. I see his face as he concentrates, deciding and weighing his options and calculating-a predators face.

The size difference apparently doesn't matter. He suddenly and shockingly lays on that awful horn. It's so loud and sudden that I jump and cover my ears. He weaves wildly around the bigger truck as if he was suddenly desperate to pass him.

The truck driver reacts, I can see a slight wobble in the trucks course then it speeds up, trying to instinctively get away. The Creeper tails him even more closely, honking furiously, sniffing the air vents.

I realize what's going to happen a millisecond before it does, I cannot help but shriek in warning and fear. The truck slams his brakes, and for one heart-stopping moment I'm sure we're going to crash. However it seems the Creeper's done this too many times before, he turns the wheel the left and misses the truck by what from my perspective like _a goddamn inch. _The Creeper barrels on, pulling up next to the side of the truck and honking aggressively.

I can see the driver through the tinted windows clearly now. Kind of oldish, middle aged at least, heavy set, jowly, unshaven, red face. If I met him in a bar or on the street I'd call him scuzzy. Now I'm just looking into his shocked owlish face. I can almost see what he's thinking as he gets a good view of the BEATNGU truck…_oh shit what is that?_ he blinks. I can sympathize; it practically screams "serial killer." Nervously he tugs on his deep-sounding horn.

I hear the Creeper chuckle as he responds in kind, his horn sounds like harsh scream. He leans over me and sniffs the vents.

For another heart stopping moment I think he's going to ram him, or some other dangerous stunt in an attempt to kill or hurt him. But then he exhales slowly and then floors the petal and speeds on. He passes the truck to my enormous relief. We continue onward.

It takes me a minute to unclench my seat, remove my nails from the seat cushion and remember to breathe. I inhale, feeling like I just ran a marathon. I'm beyond freaked.

Suddenly I feel his hand on my chest. I jerk up in surprise. _Is he feeling me up!?_ I think in horror. However his hand moves over my throat, feeling my heart beat, with a thoughtful expression on his face. I swat his hand away in annoyance.

"Yeah, I'm scared" I admitted, "because you're fucking crazy! You could have killed us-well me." He merely shakes his head and smirks in amusement.

I glance back to see the truck, and allow myself a revenge fantasy. "Good thing you didn't, he would have crushed you. You would have bitten off more then you could chew with that thing."

His smirk erupts into howls of laughter at that statement. Whether he's laughing at me or what I said I don't know. I just feel my cheeks go dark red and retreat into a sudden silence. I hide behind my hair, I imagine his body squashed like a bug under that big heavy truck._Screw him…_

I don't know how long we continued that long tedious trip. It was too boring to go into detail. Finally sick of it I finally brushed back my hair and asked him: "Where are we going?"

"The Hive" He answered simply. I didn't understand, in fact I was totally baffled, but I didn't query further.

The only thing of note that happened next, indeed it's still burned into my mind; a motorcycle sped arrogantly past us.

I felt my blood drain from my face. I actually shot him a pleading look, but he ignored me, a slow grin crept over across his face. He sped up in what seemed like half a foot away from him. Either his own loud engine or day dreaming kept him from noticing.

"No, wait," but my pleas were drowned out by the loud honks. He couldn't ignore that. I saw him visibly jump, nearly losing control of the motorcycle. The monster swerved about him like a cat batting a mouse around. The rider began panicking. I can see his head moving frantically to look behind him while trying to keep his eyes on the road. He sped up as far as he could go. The Creeper moved much faster, almost impossibly fast in his souped up truck. I could see the realization in the guy's eyes. He tried to swerve to shake him off. Like an antelope trying to outrun a lion.

The monster was totally at ease, if excited, certain of his own powers, in his own element. He sniffed the vents eagerly again, and with a sick feeling I realized he didn't feel the same way about this guy as he did the trucker.

He seemed to be thinking and planning, as the guy tried desperately to speed ahead. He twirled the wheel slightly. He hit the biker at an angle, and he hit him so softly for a moment I thought he would be okay. Of course I realized I underestimated the kinetic power of the truck as he hit the cow-catcher like thing and sailed over our heads. The BEATNGU screeched to a halt.

_Oh God, Oh God_. I thought in numb horror. I fumbled with my stupid belt and finally ripped it loose. I ran to the back of the truck. In retrospect it was dim-witted of course, but I rushed to him. I heard the Creeper slam his door and run after me.

The biker was lying broken on the ground. It made me sick to look at his limbs all twisted in such unnatural angles like that. His helmet was cracked and askew. Oddly enough I saw no blood, but his insides must have been pulverized. I saw and uncovered eye flick up to me. I felt relief he was still alive, his arm jerked awkwardly. I could see his hand reach down…

Suddenly the Creeper yanked me viciously back, shoving me away. I could see horror in the man's face as he pulled out some sort of gun, aimed…

Let me tell you, you know the sounds guns make on TV? Those cute little popping noises? Real guns sound nothing like that. It sounded like a cannon going off. I cowered and covered my ears again. The man began screaming, panicking as he got a good look at the Creeper. He started firing wildly at him. The monster grabbed him by the collar, grabbed him by the wrist.

He could have knocked the gun away, or wrenched it from his hands. Instead he held his wrist, squeezing slowly and ever tighter as the man screamed and jerked in pain and tried desperately to hold on. I heard a bone crack until he finally dropped it, whimpering.

The Creeper began to smell.

I winced and turned away, not wanting to see, (and covered my ears again) but I still heard the terrible screams, the gurgles and a nasty SPLAT sound. When it was over I succumbed to the temptation tot turn around, the man was already being loaded in the truck. I could see bloody ropes on the ground. On a second glance I saw they were guts. He had been eviscerated. I gagged and turned away again.

The Creeper returned back to the driver's seat sill licking and slurping. It sounded like someone eating spaghetti. Not being able to stand it any more I turned away from the ugly truck. I jumped off the road._ I'm not going back._

Instantly I hear a screech of protest. I shut my eyes and run harder. It's much more difficult with the extra weight, even early in the pregnancy as I was. I wrap and arm around my stomach and continue onward.

Or course it's no use. He catches up to me effortlessly. I start screaming at him. "No" he says sternly and grabs my shoulders and gives me a thorough shake. "No, no, no" I can't stand being treated this way. I spit at him and struggle. He sighs wearily.

"I don't want to go back, I DON'T wanna!" I'm screaming. Vaguely I'm aware of how childish I sound. I hated that truck, I hated everything about him.

"HELP!" I yell, "PLEASE!" Someone has to hear someone has to be around. Someone has to help me get out of here. He lifts me off the ground altogether when I simply refuse to cooperate. No one comes. What would they do if they did?

He climbs into the truck first, and then pulls me in after them. I'm still kicking and screaming. He pulls the piss-poor excuse for a seatbelt over me and tightens it to an unnecessary degree. His eyes are wide and angry; his mouth is set in a very thin line. He grabs my face to make sure I see it. It's a kind of I'm-Taking-No-Crap-Right-Now expression. I still cry but I'm quiet. My last gesture of defiance is to kick the truck sullenly.

The monster drives on. I can hear the motorcycle skitter out from the cow-catcher in front and feel the bump as we run over it.

The world is very blurry through unshed tears. I wipe them away. I don't whine or howl, but I'm still upset, just as I always am when I witness a victim's murder. To distract myself I look out the window. I see some more buildings. Interested, I look out at them.

Some are more far away than others. There seems to be a bit more people here. On building catches my eye. I stare closely at it until I can read its sign "AJAX SUPERMARKET" The "X" and the "M" had fallen off.

I become excited, I almost ask for him to stop, but then decide against it. I don't want to cause anyone to get hurt. I watch as the building slowly disappears. The monster turned west on a dirt road.

The road became more decrepit, as the foliage grew more unkempt. It was creepy, not the place you want to accidentally turn on. It really looked like there was nothing here. I began to wonder what he meant by "The Hive".

I was wrong, there was something there. We pulled up next to a slightly dilapidated, but still pompous-looking building. He stopped the engine.

I was curious, but still feeling tired and sad so I refused to budge. I gazed out the window and played with my nails idly as he moved the body of the biker and other stuff from the back into the building. I thought about wandering up the road to find that old supermarket. The Creeper can temporarily suppress my appetite with his vile actions, and depression does its job also, but it can't be kept away forever. I'm hungry, hungry and tired.

A sudden tap on my window draws my attention. I turn to see the monster's ugly face; he opens the door and makes a gesture with his hand. "Come." He tells me. I hate how he talks to me, like I'm a child or a dog. Glowering, I turn away curl up into myself.

He's not in an indulging mood. He rips the belt off and picks me up, carrying me baby-tantrum style. I kick and beg to be let down. Since I'm not screaming or crying he surprisingly obeys my request. I follow him to the building.

It's an ugly place, but not nearly as foreboding as the old place. Nor is it wet and moldy. To my surprise he leads me down into the basement. It's big, concrete and loaded with signs of his presence. Corpses, everywhere corpses!

I would storm out in disgust but something about him seems odd. He's excited, almost gleeful. Like a kid with a big surprise. He keeps smiling and gesturing at me to keep following him.

I'm wary of course, how can I not be? But I still follow him at a distance.

He's digging through the basement. After a moment of rummaging he comes out with a very old, very dusty looking box, and presents it to me like it's a priceless treasure while grinning broadly. I look at him hesitantly. "Food," he said, "Human food." I'm horrified for a moment, then I realize, "Ohhh food _for_ humans." I struggle to open the old box inevitably thinking "_To Serve Man, it's a cookbook_!" The monster bends down and helps me pry it off.

A cloud of cloying dust and moths issues from the box. I choke and cough and step back. The Creeper waves the dust away. I have a disappointed feeling even before I see it; I wonder what condition it is in. Turns out, pretty bad condition. They're old, old MRE's of indiscernible age and origin. I can tell they've gone bad before I smell it, and a timid lick merely confirms it. I sputter and spit the taste out of my mouth. The Creeper has an anxious expression.

"This-blah-this is no good." I drop that foul old junk back into its foil wrapper and into the box. It actually makes a stale "clunk" sound. I think it was emergency food, ancient emergency food.

"Not…good?" he asks me. I shake my head. "It went bad, like that hand." I added. Suddenly he nods in understanding and takes the food away. I try to get the taste out of my mouth.

I look around the basement. In concrete heaviness it's like a bomb shelter, that image reinforced by the candles and kerosene lamps. Except the corpses it really resembles an old Cold War bomb shelter. I wonder what it originally was. "Hive"?

I see my stuff, he's brought them in. Not really wanting to spend another minute of my life in a terrible body-filled nightmare I grab them and matter-of-factly announce I'm going upstairs. He watches me but lets me go, discarding his coat and hat.

As soon as I reach the upstairs I realize what this building was.

"Jesus, it's a school." I whisper. It only has six classrooms, each with a potbellied stove. It seems so old and quaint. Little desks line the room neatly. Strangely it doesn't seem to go with the old bomb shelter. I wander gingerly in and out of them, finally choosing the smallest one as mine. It's all a bit dusty, but not nearly as filthy as the weird dripping place. After a while I even get comfortable.

I sigh, "What am I going to do?" I ask out loud. I try to be practical I start my digging out all my stuff and hang it on the desks to dry. I dispassionately take inventory of what I still have. I packed a lot of clothes; some were ripped to shreds however…

I should ask him for more kerosene. I haven't been feeling itchy, but I'd like to wash out my clothes and my hair one more time. Of course I need water too. I make a mental note to ask him for that also.

It makes me more angry and frustrated, because of his actions I'm a complete dependent, a baby. I could take care of myself; I was taking care of myself years before I met him. I was born into a society and I could navigate through it with ease. Now I'm totally out of my element. I'm a pet, a slave, helpless. I can't do anything without his permission. I'm still dirty and wearing the same clothes I wore when I was sick, which would be totally unacceptable to me normally. Now I'm grimy and unkempt and I'm struggling to care. I wander outside

I see a ladder I never see before. It's attached to the side of the building. Cautiously I test my weight on it. It holds. I climb up to the top.

It's windy, my hair whips everywhere. Naturally I wander to the edge. There is no gate or fence around it. I stand on the brink, daring myself. I can see the ground distort itself in my vision. If I jumped here I think I would die, maybe. I don't have the guts. I'm weak and I know it. Still I stand at the brink, for how long I don't know, not long it seems.

The monster walks out; he sees me and stops to gape in surprise. I give him a very cold smile and wave at him sardonically. He looks angry. He makes and angry "_Get Down Here NOW!"_ gesture. I lower my lids half way and feel my smirk grow. I pretend to take a pretend step off the building. He freaks.

I don't jump of course; I'm still too much of a wuss. Still I hold my foot over the edge of the building and wiggle it mockingly. I give him the message that I can kill myself anytime I want. I can see him get even angrier.

I soon regret my taunting as he takes a running leap at the building, and lands about half-way up the wall, sticking to it. My smile vanishes and I back away slightly. I forgot he could do that. He skitters up the wall like a spider. In an instant he'll be on me. I turn around and run as fast as I can back to the ladder. I can hear him behind me. His footsteps pound after mine. I'm starting to cry in panic. I run back into the building and to my room and close the door. He's about a second behind me and he slams the door open, a big hole appears in the wall where it bounces off. He walks into the room looking livid.

I feel like just collapsing and crying, but I don't. Instead I straighten myself out, put on more false bravado, look him straight in the eye and began to demand things.

"I'm going to need a bit more kerosene-just in case, and for my clothes, you obviously don't use any soap. Also water to wash it off, CLEAN water since I have to drink some. Also something to eat, I'm starving."

He takes a few steps closer to me, I lick my lips and look down, but resist the urge to step back. I raise my eyes to his. He's glaring at me, I feel like I'm being x-rayed, he studies me then abruptly turns around and stomps off. The Creeper makes a gesture so small I almost miss it:_Follow me_.

I do so, making sure to stay to of arms length.

He leads me down into the basement where he grabs some jugs, then leads me up through the bulkhead into the surrounding overgrown trees. I try not to trip on roots and get caught on brambles. He walks on steadily, a dark figure through the forest.

He leads me to a creek, which flows into a beautiful pond. I'm enchanted, I love it. It's almost like a fairy tale.

"Water," he tells me, and then gestures to some bushes. Fat black berries hang off of them. "Food," he tells me, then leaves me the jugs. He grabs my arm before leaving. "no running," he tells me with deadly seriousness. I stick my tongue out at his retreating back.

I focus on the task at hand. I take it water from the running stream instead of the pond, as I know that's slightly safer. Carefully I snap of twigs containing the most berries, these have some wicked looking thorns.

It's much more difficult carrying the jugs full of water down, not to mention thorny branches and the extra weight in my stomach. I manage by making sort of a carrying apron out of my shirt; it's still a difficult juggling act. _Stupid monster._ Although I can't say I'm unhappy being away from him.

I see him when I get back unfortunately. He rips the ladder off the side of the school. He breaks the metal ladder on his knee. Easily, like it's a dry twig. He watches me as I walk by. I quickly go to my room. It's almost dusk.

My exact thoughts were,_I hope it doesn't get too cold_ when my eyes fell on the pot-bellied stove. Excited I went back outside to gather wood, as well as some more berries. The Creeper continues to watch me with his cold steady gaze as I come back with some dry old wood.

_Let's see if I remember how to do this,_ I think as I open the stove. _I know I have a lighter somewhere, where is my notebook?_ I ripped out a few old pages for kindling. I light the paper hopefully, to my relief the fire catches. I close the stove and make sure it has enough oxygen.

Now, I turn to the water. Is it safe to drink? It looked okay, but I know that means nothing, I wish I had purification tablets, or at least some bleach. I wonder if I should ask the Creeper, then quickly dismiss that thought. I'll have to take my chances. I can at least filter it though my nylon pantyhose. I take a small sip. Tastes okay. I remove some berries with my Swiss army knife then eat some of them, very sweet.

I wait for the stove to heat up, I can boil the water. He's left me kerosene, and to my surprise, a bed of straw and corn husks. I prod it carefully, and then spread a blanket over it.

My washing water is warm enough. It's not a hot shower or bath but God does it feel good. First thing I cast off is my filthy sweat pants and night shirt, wash them in kerosene, wash anything that's suspect in kerosene, especially my hair and hairbrush. Then find my own soap and shampoo and finally wash everything off. There is absolutely _nothing_ that feels better than bathing after staying in that damp filthy place and an illness. Nothing. I luxuriate in the feeling of cleanliness.

I rinse all my clothes off and find something dry and decent enough for bed. The hay is so soft and inviting, I snuggle down, sighing as I eat my berries and feel the fire's heat radiate toward me, watching my drinking water simmer down from boiling. I fall asleep hoping to see Darry.

**She's not listening, she's not cooperating. I try to keep her safe. I'm trying to keep her happy. She keeps getting worse.**

**She's gong to end up like the other Breeder. I've had others, they're so rare, but I can remember the others, but they're all different. The one before her was wary, but good. Unfortunately she was killed before it could be born.**

**The one before that, the blue-eyed one, her memory comes to me the strongest, and troubles me the most. She was so good, very obedient. But she followed me places she shouldn't have, a minor flaw that showed her curiosity and over eagerness. In all other areas she was submissive and compliant. Then she threw herself off a cliff.**

**I can see the parallels in this one. I can see how her eyes glaze over, how she whimpers in pain when nothing is hurting her. But she's even worse, she's stubborn as a wild horse, biting and kicking and resisting at every opportunity. Trying to mate with her is even more difficult, because even if I give her wonderful pleasure she pushes me away. She doesn't even like trying to get close. She just lays there crying.**

**What's even worse then her sloth is her anger, which is amusing when she screams childishly and tries to hurt me, but not so much as I see her scratch and bite herself in rage. I can barely understand it sometimes. I know she hates being locked up, I would dislike it also, but I can't do anything else to keep her running away.**

**That's intolerable. She tried to do that today, even though it was ridiculously pointless. Maybe the loud noises from the human weapon scared her, but it's still not acceptable. Even if she can't run she manages to find herself in dangerous places, the tops of buildings were she gazes at the ground with a intensity that I've seen before in blue eyes. Today she even had the audacity to taunt me with it. I could only let her gather water and human food alone because I could hear what she was doing and because she was upwind.**

**Still it's my duty to see she has food, and everything she needs. She does, but she's still so wild. I can see her looking out at the habited areas, the human places. I know she longs to go back to them.**

**Oh yes, I observe her when she thinks I'm not looking. I can read the emotions on her face, usually, but when she sees me looking she looks down. So I do it discreetly, I do this now.**

**She's cleaning herself off, which due to an illness and lack of clean water she hadn't been able to. She's happy now; she thinks I'm not here. I watch her silently as she bustles around the room, cleaning and rinsing and washing. I can even hear a soft hum.**

**Her long (and quite beautiful) hair is being oiled and washed and combed as it falls gracefully over her nude body. I feel a rush of triumph when my eyes fall down to her stomach, I can see the little swelling normally hidden underneath her clothes. She falls quiet and touches it gently.**

**Afterwards when she's done she makes a little nest for herself using blankets and the hay and husks I've given her, as I knew she would. She doesn't try to run away.**

**When her breathing deepens and slows I walk silently into the room. She doesn't stir. She's so much smaller than me, especially as she curls up in sleep. Standing she barely reaches my shoulder, which makes her resistance all the more hilarious. I study her quietly like I do almost every sleep. I smell her, I tremble and can feel the stolen organ harden, but tonight I refrain myself. I touch her face very, very lightly with the tips of my fingers.**

December 5

"Oh wow" I said looking at the date. Luckily my watch wasn't ruined. That was a good thing.

I calculate backwards. Four months, it's been roughly four months since I've been here, a captive. He nabbed me on the road going to school. Nobody even knows I'm here.

For the first time in a long time I wonder about my family. Around this time I would have been expecting to get some time off, drive home, relax. Do they even know I'm gone? Do they even care?

"Oh sh-shit," I curse clumsily as before I'm realizing it, I'm crying again. Everything seems so unreal; I'm living in an abandoned building as the sex-slave of a supposed to be imaginary monster. But the surrealness doesn't lessen the despair; it throws it into sharp relief.

One vague detached corner of my mind notices my hands are shaking, and I can't control it. My whole body is shaking before I realize it I'm laying on the floor thrashing like I'm in the throws of a seizure. I think I might be screaming too, I can't tell.

My limbs swing everywhere, they bang on to walls, the floor, anything in reach. The back of my head slams into the floor repeatedly. Fists clenched, pounding the floor, biting kicking scratching I very literally can't stop myself. The part of my mind that's aware is very frightened.

The fit ends quickly as it begins, and I lay on the cold floor, gasping like a fish, covered in forming bruises.

Slowly, stiffly I get up, wondering what the hell happened. I sort of do a mental check on my emotions. I'm still angry and sad but I feel a little better, or at least different. I feel sort of empty-hollow. I wipe away a few residual tears.

_I have to go shopping today,_ I blandly note to myself. I have my wallet, it was in my backpack, I know where a store is, and I'm hungry. However before I blindly walk out the door I realize something, I have to make myself look like a decent human being once again. I wish I had a mirror.

Slowly I take my pajamas off. My clothes are dry if a little stiff and smelling of kerosene. It's cold so I put on my jacket, brush my long hair and tie it back so it looks neat. The only mirror I have is a compact mirror. I look acceptable in public, accept that I'm thinner and have deep shadows under my eyes. I carefully apply eyeliner, lipstick, eye shadow, some powder to carefully conceal everything.

I also make sure to carefully conceal my stomach; it's getting harder to do so.

When I'm finished I leave my room, but the main door is locked. "Damn it!" I scream. I calm myself and hold in tears. "Come on," I beg, shaking the door, I pound on it, "please!" I get no response.

He's probably not even listening. Maybe he's not here, but I know what I can do. I head toward the basement. To my relief and regret he's there, carving some things. I walk past him eagerly up the stairs to the bulkhead, its open!

"Where!?" he demands, looking annoyed. Without turning around I answer simply: "food."

He becomes kind of cagey and immediately follows me. I wish he wouldn't, I start towards the road. He grabs me, "Food." He says pointing to where he showed me the berry bushes, I shake my head.

"I'm going to the market, to buy some food." He looks suspicious, annoyed and confused. I try to elaborate, "I-I'm going to the store, to get food." I show him my money but he merely shakes his head, not understanding. He frowns and says "food is here." He points to the bushes again and tries to pull me away. But I won't be cowed by this.

"No, no I'm just walking down the road to the building that says 'Ajax Supermarket',_then_ I'm getting whatever food I want and coming back, ok?" I pull away, "so let me go."

I can tell he's just not happy with what I said, whether it's from my patronizing tone or the idea in general. He still looks upset and wary, then he beckons me to his truck. I shake my head, "You _don't need_ to drive me I can walk it," I say exasperated. He starts the truck anyway.

Realizing I have no choice I sigh and get in.

He backs out and gets on the bumpy road, which gets slightly less bumpy as we drive back to where we came. I start to see a few scattered buildings; ugly as they are they are enormously comforting. Soon I see the building I want, "there, there!" I cry. He pulls in, closer to the building than I would like.

"Okay, just park, no_park_, you have to get in between the white lines, nooo don't hit the other cars, just stay away from them please. Ok, ok that's fine," I open the door and head out, to my surprise he follows me.

"You can't come with me!" I cry flabbergasted. He looks shocked as I am and angry as well, I wave him back to the car, "I'll be back but you have to stay here." Distrust seeps into his expression, and I can see his determination in staying with me. My face falls in desperation.

"I'll make you a deal ok? Just, uh, give me like an hour. Then I'll be back." He shakes his head, I began panicking. "Ok, half an hour? Please? I need to eat you know." He shakes his head again, "don't understand."

Don't understand what? Why he can't come in? I try to explain it to him, "look if you come in people are going to get really freaked and I can't get my food." I don't add I don't want him to kill anyone. He shakes his head again. "Don't understand 'hour'." I blink, "oh." I say. "Um," I give him my watch. We both lean our heads over it.

So the Creeper got a crash course in human time measurement. "See this long hand measures hour, the short one measures minutes, the one that moves really fast is seconds. A second is basically an instant of time, sixty seconds to a minute, sixty minutes to an hour, got it?" He looks up but says nothing; I take that as an invitation to go on. "when this long, slow hand goes once around it's an hour," I explain. "I'll be back within at least an hour, if I don't come back," I take a deep breath hoping I don't regret this, "_then_you can come in after me, okay?" He nods in agreement; I drop the glittering watch into his clawed hands, knowing I cinched the deal.

I stay as he gets back into the car, "see you then," I say awkwardly then head off.

Near the entrance I grab a cart, it's creaking is the only noise in the parking lot. To my surprise I have to push the doors open. I look inside, thanking God it's not closed.

Ajax's was very small, not like the big commercialized, bright shiny stores I was used to, but it imitated a supermarket is that you pushed a cart around and got what you need. I wheeled around, getting happier by the minute.

_Look at all this food_! I think giddily, I had nearly forgotten. It's amazing how easy it is, how normal it once seemed. You can just walk in and pluck what you want right off the dusty shelves. Soon I'm racing around like a little kid. I was so hungry for so long I'm tempted to start eating in the store.

Some chips, they have my favorite cookies, chocolate bars, hard candy, coke _ok enough junk food._ I buy a bit of cheese, a tiny milk jug and a few yogurt cups, since I have no way to keep this stuff cool. Lots of bananas (my favorite fruit), a few apples, bread, I don't touch the corn I'm sick of it.

_You need to buy stuff that'll last_, I remind myself. Smoked meat, beef jerky, smoked cheese. I look at the cans and buy soups by the arm load; tons of canned peaches and fruit, vegetables, freeze dried stuff, tea. I clear out what looks like half the shelf.

I have a first aid box, but God knows what I'll need, especially living with that thing. I splurge on bandages and peroxide, I buy the cheaper soap in bulk, shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant, a pack of bottled water. By the time I'm finished my cart is loaded. I feel like I'm pushing around a precious horde of gold and silver. I cheerfully bounce over to the cashier.

The store only had about five checkout lines, three were open. As soon as I walked into one I realized I was being stared at, by everyone.

"Uhhh, hi," I said to my cashier. I try not to blush as I realize I hear whispers. Whether my racing around the store playfully, or the sheer amount of purchase or the fact that it was a small town supermarket and everybody probably knew each other drew their attention I don't know.

Suddenly I feel extraordinarily hot, my whole face is burning. I began to have paranoid thoughts_, they can see what the monster did to me, they know I've seen people killed, that it's my fault, they can see what's__** inside **__of me._

_Don't be stupid_ I mentally slap myself. Still I feel like bursting into tears and running away. I don't want to be here anymore. The place lost its magic, I can see the ugly pink color it's painted, its dustiness and cobwebs. I can see the ridiculously priced obscure brand cigarettes right out in the open. I get my wallet out trembling.

The cashier interrupts my thoughts.

I raise my eyebrows slightly at the price, but I have enough, I thumb through my money, and I see the gold glint of my debit card. I gape at it, for it has possibilities I never considered before.

My account will show the purchase, show up on my statement. It will show when and where I purchased this stuff. Anybody looking for me will see it. I agonize for a moment. I don't know if I have enough on my account, and more importantly there's the strong possibility that anyone who comes looking for me will be horribly killed.

I pause, and then pull out the cash.

The cashier is an older woman; with the kind of sour I've-been-stuck- in- this- job- for- twenty- years expression. However she looks at me curiously, I give a standard social smile that she returns. I feel slightly better.

"Here ya go, hon," she hands me a receipt and change. "Paper of plastic?" she asks.

What a beautiful phrase that is! I want to kiss her for saying it. Paper or plastic, the biggest daily decision I would have to make in my old blissfully boring normal life. I feel such a rush getting to choose and control my own life, even if it's a trivial choice like this. "Paper," I say confidently. She loads my stuff, I help her.

"So how you doing?" she asked, "Fine," I say in the same confident tone. Just standard small talk. She nods towards me, "you know if it's a boy or girl?"

I grow cold, "What?" I ask in stupefied horror. "Your baby." She replies casually.

_**Oh God**__ she can __**see **__it_? I shriek silently in shock. I thought I had hid it so well. Sputtering I ask "H-how did-d-?" she cackles, "five kids," she says proudly. "Trust me I know."

I feel my brain imploding; she catches the look on my face, and then finally realizes how that question might have made me feel. She looks like she might apologize or ask if I'm okay or something. Before I allow something that terrible to happen I swing my cart around.

"Thanks," I mumble hoarsely and barrel out the doors. I can feel every patron's eyes on me.

I rush out into the parking lot, the cart squeaking noisily. I run until I see the BEATNGU truck. When he sees me he starts the engine.

I open the door and practically throw the groceries into the truck. The Creeper is watching me wide-eyed with his hands on the wheel. Working furiously I finish loading and shove the cart away, then hop in.

"Go." I order he doesn't, he looks at me curiously. I feel like I just ran a marathon. Why isn't he going?

Frowning his ugly face slightly he reaches over and touches my lips, smells me. Then abruptly smears my lipstick off.

"Hey what the hell-?" I ask angrily. He wipes it off with his coat. Then grabbing his face with both hands he licks my lips, kisses them, and jams his tongue into my mouth.

No please no, please not again I'm crying, but to my relief he pulls away, licking his lips. Then he gestures to mine, "not good." He tells me.

I pull away from him as far and curl up against the door. "Well," I say very annoyed, "you're not supposed to _eat_ it."

Finally he starts he shifts the car and starts to drive back to the school. He looks at my makeup again, with a disapproving glance. "No more." He orders, …"don't like."

"Screw you", I hiss venomously. When we reach our destination I jump out before the car even stops and grab my stuff and barricade myself in my room. _I hate him, I hate him, I hate him so much._

At least I have warmth, a soft bed, water, clean clothes and berries that taste awesome in yogurt and that nice full feeling when you've stuffed yourself on all your favorite food. Still I had that before, I was happy. I was free to make my own choices. I didn't have a horrible monster as a master. And-I pull my blanket over my stomach-what she said disturbed me, more than I thought possible.

I hate thinking about it, every time I try and have a panic attack or feel like one of those strange fits are coming on. So I don't think about it.

_I'll escape_ I promise myself, _I'll start planning now. _Then I can think about it.

--------------------------

A/N: Cut me some slack with Maria's plant foraging. I don't know what time of year corn is harvested or if you can find berries in the beginning of winter. (Although redplanetes helpfully informs me there are late blooming patches) I do know that images of the Creeper running through the lush ripe corn fields to kill people is wrong because corn is _planted_in the spring, but hell, that's what's in the movies and this is my imaginary universe so suck it nitpickers.

I also want to apologize for my horrendously bad typing. I edit of course but it's a one man operation and I don't catch everything.


	20. Chapter 20

One thing I've recently realized about being a prisoner, hostage or kidnap victim, it's actually quite boring.

There are long stretches of time with absolutely nothing to do. You literally just sit there all day, every day. Sometimes something happens, a lot of times nothing happens. You're left alone with your own thoughts. And those thoughts are understandably depressing.

I've been going over everything I can remember about situations about this. I think about other kidnapping situations, what did they do what did they not do? You're supposed to keep your mind occupied, don't get depressed, don't do anything stupid. You're supposed to "humanize" yourself to your captors. Uncontrollably, I laugh to myself.

I have been trying to keep busy. Mostly I clean and organize my stuff. I'm separating my useful possessions from my useless ones. I realize I'm going to have to pack more lightly. The weight of captivity is heavy enough on me.

Sometimes when I don't have the will or the energy to get up I lay on my crude bed. Slowly I pull my shirt up and watch my stomach. I think I can watch it getting bigger. The whole prospect of what lays in my stomach is absolutely terrifying. Food, warmth, escape, those are problems I can sit down and think rationally about. They are problems I can confront and solve. With this there is no rational thought, just blind terror. When I try to think about all I do is I panic. No nice rational solutions. So I pull my shirt down and ignore it. But still it weighs heavier on my mind every day.

I don't know what to do.

_But you do, you need to escape_. I get up from my bed and wander over to the window. There's a good deal of sunlight for a winter's day. The nearby trees look peaceful, the view is almost pretty, if it wasn't marred by the big dark, hulking truck. Yes, I need to get out of here, get help for- I put my hand over my stomach. That's exactly what I need to do.

Idleness born of fear and uncertainty stops me. It almost becomes procrastination: I'll escape tomorrow. Or the next day. I don't know exactly how'll I'll do it, and it's a very, very risky thing to do.

There is another way. But after much soul-searching I realize I simply can't do it. I can't commit suicide, I don't want to, not while there's still hope. The urge is always there but I doubt it will ever be acted upon.

Still I have to do something other than eat, get bigger and watch the sun move across the sky every day. I can't let despair turn into apathy.

Later

Still bored. I just finished my lunch; I'm sitting aimlessly in front of the slowly heating stove. I think about getting my notebook out again, but I don't feel like looking for it. I left all of my books at my father's house, since I felt I wouldn't need them. I sigh.

I actually think of going to the Creeper and asking for something to read, but that's only suggested half-heartedly. Besides I don't feel like getting up. There are tiny little sharp pains all inside my stomach.

However, I do know something that will cheer me up.

I dig around my groceries and pull out a chocolate bar with a smile. God how I've been craving chocolate throughout my captivity. Chocolate- sweet, milky, smooth, delicious-is the peak of civilization as far as I'm concerned. I'm going to have to buy more.

I hear a bootstep behind me.

Instantly I turn my head. Of course it's him standing there, dark, nasty menacing. I scoot back on my butt as far away as possible. I become aware of heat behind me. The stove, I have to remember not to lean against it.

It's hard, if I could choose between first-degree burns and him I'd choose the burns. Still there's no point, he comes closer to me anyway, peering at me intently. There's a standard "what-are-you-up-to?" expression on his face as he bends down to examine me. He ignores my angry commands to go away. To my consternation he settles down on his haunches, gazing at my face earnestly.

I can do nothing but huddle against the corner and watch him with wide wary eyes. He sniffs the air around me. Occasionally he reaches out to try and touch my face while I try to pull my head from his hand._Just go away_ I think. These encounters always make me terribly afraid, will he or will he not? All I can do is sit here with my back against the wall, tensed as hell.

He makes a small gesture with his hands and bends down to lift my shirt. I relax a fraction. He checks me constantly, to see if I-or I guess we-are healthy. Since he's shown no major concern so far I suppose everything is okay. That's why I tolerate these little checkups. Congratulations I'm healthy.

Still he won't fucking _leave_. He lingers around me, sniffing. What the hell does he want?

He rocks back slightly watching me with his head tilted somewhat to the side. His mouth twists slightly, as if he's deciding on something. The air begins to get uncomfortably hot. I look down and realize my chocolate is starting to melt. _Shit._

I try to eat it again. I pause when I can see genuine amusement and interest on his face. He presses his face closer to mine. I draw back in irritation, another surreal moment.

He's not leaving, and I'm starting to get very worried again. Still smiling he reaches out to tug on my hair. Totally weirded out I duck away underneath his outstretched arm and quickly, but awkwardly get away from his grasp. Surprised he turns around quickly.

I'm near my bed now, I keep my eyes on him but I wonder if I can run out the door just a few feet behind me and escape. Slowly, with eyes shining, he edged toward me. An excited little grin was on his face. It looked like he was having fun; he looked like he was going to pounce on me.

I knew I couldn't get away.

In less time it took to blink he did pounce. He jumped right in front of me and grabbed my hair. I almost cried out, but then realized it didn't hurt. He rubbed my hair between his fingers slowly, and then pushed my face against his. I grimaced and tried to pull away. He rubbed his nose against mine. Finally he let me pull away, but I knew he was getting ready to push himself on me. He was making small eager noises of anticipation. Abruptly he shoved me onto the bed. He hovered over me and pawed at me. I felt like a mouse being played with by a cat.

I was frozen. I could fight, or I couldn't. The results would be the same. It was that simple. I felt something in me wither and die. Using a sharp finger nail he popped off the top button of my shirt.

I take another bite of chocolate.

Maybe I was hysterical or something but even at the time it seemed like a weird thing to do. The Creeper thought so also because he stopped and gave me a strange look. The kind of look you give to people when you seem them do something totally unpredictable and inappropriate. He stopped for a moment, curious, and took a whiff. His face wrinkled in disgust.

I knew suddenly.

It sounds stupid, but impulsively I took another bite. Then I began to moan.

Now it was his turn to freeze. He watched me with wide eyes with the intensity of a predator. He didn't look pleased or displeased, or even that anxious. I was doing something he didn't understand, he was simply watching and waiting.

I pretended to be sexually aroused. I know it sounds like fighting fire with gasoline, but I also pretended the chocolate was causing it. I took a small bite and moaned and let my hand run over my body and writhed on my straw bed. He began sniffing rapidly again. He tried to climb on me. Looking confused, he ran his hand over me. Ignoring my real feelings of disgust I moaned again.

After swallowing down another small piece of chocolate and gasping I pressed it to him. He looked at me with uncertainty and at the chocolate with disgust. I kept insisting and would smell it with breathless joy and act like it was filled with Ecstasy pills, and then shove it back to him.

In retrospect it's astonishing. It just seemed like some stupid stunt I pulled because I literally no other options. He looked confused as ever, but reluctantly convinced. He took a bite like the stuff was made out of nuclear waste. I saw nasty yellow sharp teeth sink into the soft brown chocolate. He looked like he just gulped down a lemon, and then had the look of a person who realizes they have a cockroach in their mouth. He turned his head and spat out the brown lump of chocolate, then began a horrible series of retchings and gaggings. I sat there stunned, wondering for a moment if he would actually vomit. Then I realized…

Quickly and quietly I'm gone. Get up walk out the door run outside. I don't stop until I reach the trees.

I look back at the school building, panting. It all looks so normal and peaceful, except for the truck. I don't see him anywhere. For a moment I can convince myself everything is okay. It's just a normal school, and I'm just a girl hiding in he woods…

Suddenly after a short time I see him; he's walking out of the building shaking his head slightly. He pauses to look at my direction, quietly as possible I slip through the trees farther into the woods. Occasionally I pause, listening for his tell-tale footsteps.

He doesn't seem to be coming after me, and as tempting as it is I don't try to run. He'll definitely come after me then if he senses that I'm trying to escape, so instead I make my way to the pond.

It's such a lovely spot, especially in contrast to living in that drab schoolhouse. I wonder if the kids would come here after a boring school day and take a swim. I certainly would. It's tempting, but it's too cold right now. Clouds are starting to gather again.

I know I have to go back inside but God I don't want to. If I do it's like walking right back into what I escaped, but I know if I stay here to long he'll just come after me.

I touch the dry winter grass. I don't want him to ruin this spot. I wander up creek a little, pretending to explore, like I'm a little kid again. I see hardly any wild life, no flowers. Depressed I head back, it's hard to explore when my stomach is in the way.

I sigh wretchedly again. Why does he have keep doing this? Doesn't he already have what he wants from me? Despite my despair I have hopeful realization, _maybe I can convince him to leave me alone…_

I go back to the schoolhouse, but slowly, killing time. It's starting to get dark, and cold.

When I get back to the school house I move silently and miserably into it, keeping an eye on him. His back is turned to me while he works further on his truck. I feel like a dog cringing like this but I can't help it. My theory of persuading him to leave me alone doesn't seem like it would stand up to much scrutiny. When I get to my room I make sure to move a desk in front of the door. It's not much, but it makes me feel better.

With absolute quiet and with the least amount of movement possible I sneak a peek at him from my window. I certainly don't want to attract his attention.

He's still not paying attention to me, that's good; still I wish I had some curtains to cover myself. He's still working on that ugly, stupid truck.

Mid December?

I had a dream, but to my disappointment, it wasn't about Darry.

It was very odd, it reminded me of dreams I had before. After a few minutes contemplating I suddenly remember. The details of the dream began to flood back as I finished off the last of my berries for breakfast.

I remember when I was little, long before I learned to drive, that I would have nightmares about driving. Mostly they were nightmares about an out of control car, or more like car that I had control over but no knowledge of how to drive safely. I guess they were just anxiety dreams over a machine that seemed so powerful, so grown up and so terrifying to a small child. Once I learned how to drive and saw how easy it was all those dreams seemed to vanish.

The details are clearer, an out of control car, me in the driver's seat near panic. I remember that. With sudden realization I remember the car, it was the BEATNGU truck.

I resist the urge to giggle; I actually put my hand over my mouth. What a silly sounding dream. However the more I think about it the more serious I become. I remember the blindingly hot country roads, the fear that I seemed to be able to smell, someone beckoning me in the car. It's not Him, it's not Darry, I'm driving away, my heart is wild with fear.

It's puzzling, I actually stop to think, but nothing comes to me. I know it's important. Is someone trying to tell me something? I've learned long ago never to distrust my dreams, but it didn't seem like a dream Darry would give me, but there was something weird about it. Something my mind wants to grasp but just quite can't.

My thoughts are severely cut short by the arrival of the Creeper. He's standing very nonchalantly just outside my window. Despite my extra weight I'm up in a second. I can feel the fight or flight urge. I back away farthest I can from the window and press up against the door. I can feel the desk I had put there and forgotten about dig into my side. It's only the fact that my eyes are riveted uncontrollably to him keeps me from trying to move the desk.

Still he seems oblivious to the hysteria he created within me. Grinning happily he makes a cheerful "Come Here" gesture with his hand. My mind flashed back to that rainy night.

Now on the verge of tears I press myself even more frantically against the door. I manage to give a trembling shake of my head, _no no go away._

Something that resembles a frown passes over his face and he repeats the gesture sharply, I shake my head frantically again. I bite my tongue to resist screaming, because I know that if I start I won't be able to stop. Yet in my head I'm shrieking: _"NO NO GO AWAY LEAVE ME ALONE, __**LEAVE ME ALONE**__!"_ When he turns and walks out of view I very nearly fall to the floor, my knees can't support my weight.

After only one brief second of relief the fear came roaring back. "_He's gonna come from the door_" my mind bawled at me. Gasping shallowly (my lungs don't seem to be able to take in as much air as they used to) I manage to scrabble up and make it to the far side of the room. Not next to the window, next to the stove. I feel like crawling behind it.

Sure enough a few seconds later I see the brass door handle twist, the door opens, is stopped by the desk, then shoved. The monster poked his ugly head into the brief space, blinked at me then focused on the desk curiously. A clawed hand shoved the desk away, like I knew it would. I start sinking to the floor again. This is it.

He steps into t he room, sniffing the air with interest, then focusing on me once again. He comes closer and holds out his hand, "Come." He orders me. I don't accept the hand. "Why?" I ask cautiously.

"Come with me," he simply orders again, and I know I have no choice. Ignoring the hand I push myself shakily up. He immediately ushers me out of the room.

"Wait! Wait!" I cry, I'm still in my sleeping clothes, but there's no way in hell I'm changing in front of him. And he seems so impatient. I manage to pull my coat on and stuff my feet into my old tennis shoes-no time for socks-before I'm rushed outside.

"Wh-where, are we" I cough and gasp, "Where are we going?" I demand. He hops eagerly into his truck and starts it. He turns to me to grin. "Going to get _human_things," he informs me, and then beckons me in. A wave of Deja-Vu from the dream enters my mind. I quickly shake my head and haul myself in.

Later

We've been driving for a while; we're long passed the supermarket, on a dusty road that has grown little more to a trail in the dirt. I sneak glances at him under my hair. He seems impatient today. Fidgety.

I can start to feel resentment. Who the hell does he think he is? I hate how he treats me, like I'm some unruly pet or child that has to be pushed and pulled around on his whim. I hate it almost as much as the fear he induces in me. Like the hysteria I was in this morning. If he comes up to me too quickly, too unexpectedly, I just can't cope.

Oh the fear, how it just eats away at you. And the anxiety, less powerful, but constant, endless. It wears away at you like the ocean on a rock and no matter how you try to cover it, no matter how many times you work up bravery and bravado and try to fill up that little pit in your stomach it's always there, eating away at you like a worm. Even now I'm afraid, I look out the window into the bright, flat nothingness I'm afraid. My heart beats irregularly at night, my hands shake uncontrollably. I'm scared almost constantly.

_I know something horrible is going to happen_, I say looking out at the wasteland. _I know it, I'm going to die, or worse. He'll do something awful, I know, I know._ I repress myself. The only reason I can sleep at night is because it's so exhausting just to get through one day under control.

My dark musings were suddenly interrupted by the sudden turning of the truck. I narrowly avoid another bump on the head from the window as I move lightly aside. He's traveling down an even more decrepit road, pulling into a town.

I watch in fascination as he pulls and parks right into the town center. Next to an ancient cracked fountain. Surely this was too conspicuous, even for him? I look at him expectantly but he merely gets out of the truck. I follow after him. When I look out I understand. This town is abandoned.

He looks out then meets my gaze. He gives a small gesture, and I understand that I've been given permission to wander.

A part of me wants to stay right here just to spit on the "magnanimous" treatment he's given me. However I'm far too curious, and spent far too much time cooped up in the school_. And after all_, I tell myself, _I might something immensely useful from the "human things_". The Creeper takes off in another direction.

It was a more than a little eerie, it was cold and windy. The wind whistled throughout the houses. It looked like the end of the world.

However despite the apocalyptic feel there wasn't just tons of stuff lying around. As I looked around I realized I had to shed some of my past assumptions about a ghost town. It's wasn't Pompeii or any sudden unexpected disaster. It's not like there was plates of food still sitting on the tables. Or even tables. Every thing was cleaned out, a ghost town that had slowly decayed, its people died or abandoned it one by one. Even now I could see where copper wiring had been cannibalized or telephone poles hacked down.

Why did he bring me here? I though. There seemed to be hardly anything worth stealing, but I guess you never knew. I poked into the abandoned houses; hardly any were locked, and looked around.

There were some old newspapers blowing around in the wind like poor man made substitutes for tumbleweeds. I thought I could at least get a date on this place, but when I picked them up they all crumbled into yellow dust, the ink long since bleached off by the sun. Here and there some knickknack or other lay spookily out of place, like a broken chair or a wind chime with one chime. But it all in all there was hardly anything.

What I did see were old, but much more recent signs of human activity. Broken beer bottles, scorched remains of fires, a graffiti tag. Maybe a hangout for bums and other homeless people. Maybe a place the local kids broke into for a dare. No one was around now though; this place probably had a bad, haunted reputation.

_I wonder why_, I thought sarcastically as I rolled my eyes to the monster, who had come back with an arm full of junk. Not wanting to get close to him I veered off into another house, it's door hanging forlornly off its hinge. My eyes stung with the sudden change in brightness. I blinked and waited for the greenish haze in my eyes to go away as I ventured in deeper.

Another broken down empty wreck...how surprising. Why did he bring me here? There really seemed to be no purpose, at least any I could figure. I hear a loud noise somewhere outside; uneasy I glance hastily behind me and continue onward.

The floor is nothing but a thick layer of dust that shows my trail of footprints behind me. The dust stirs swirls around slowly and sparkles in the light coming through a miraculously intact window. For just a minute everything feels like it will be okay.

The moment abruptly ends as I hear another loud bang. Suddenly my thoughts resume frantically again_. Escape, escape_, but I can't escape, he'll catch me.

_Maybe I can, at least I can try_. I open the window, it squeaks and jams so I force it, and barely manage to squeeze through. I fall and stumble out into the overgrown wilderness the backyard has become. Now what? I stop and pant. I don't here any more loud banging. Quietly as possible I try to set off. The trees and the plants all seem trying to stop me. My once nice pajamas get caught on brambles and thorns and branches, pulling me back. I struggle fiercely, ripping my clothes. If I can just get out of this place, away, find someone, anyone. I know it's stupid and desperate but if I do nothing I have no chance.

**When I finally finished hauling up the old engine I found I sighed slightly in relief as I closed the doors to his truck. Although I would have to eat a new foot to replace the one I accidentally crushed by dropping the engine, it's not like I've never faced crippling injuries before. After deciding I had enough machine parts I started looking around for The Breeder.**

**I considered calling out to her, but decided against it, she wasn't obedient enough to come when called anyway. With another sigh I set off looking for, limping slightly.**

**Of course she wasn't terribly hard to track. Her delicious heady scent was eagerly picked up by my nose and I followed it through the ruins. The pain in my foot was whetting my appetite. I began to grow excited.**

_**Careful, don't lose control**_**, was the effect of the what I told myself. Hunt yes, kill no. Eat… maybe. **

**I followed the scent into an old human dwelling. When I happened to glance down I saw tiny fresh footprints in the floor dust and followed them to an open window. This led immediately of course to a newly made trail or stomped weeds and broken twigs.**

**I couldn't help but smile, she was so adorable.**

Maybe I can do it, maybe I can, it was nearly hopeless but I had to try at least. If I didn't even try I had no hope.

It's like something out of a nightmare; somehow I knew I was being chased and hunted. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck on their own accord, I look behind me, nothing.

I press onward.

**It was so exciting. I was sure my eyes were dilated, my nostrils flared, all my senses at their peak. Before I can stop myself I'm reaching inside my coat and I can feel the cold reassuring steel.**

**No.**

**I quickly berate myself. No killing, I'm slightly angry at her. Her foolish fear and rebellion has caused this hunger, but the crushed foot isn't helping either. I want her. Humans are food, and breeders are delicious, but too precious to eat. Still it is dangerous for them, they smell so good.**

**For a moment I fantasize about eating her feet. One small little morsel is all they'd be. I look at her prints and notice she walks slightly pigeon toed.**

**My slight lapse of attention causes a slip. She turns around, but I'm not there.**

**When will she learn to look up?**

**I know I can channel my hunger into something else. Oh yes I'm very hungry, I know just what I want. She stops in front of another ruin, slightly tired, she's looking out hopefully, looking out for some escape.**

Why am I so easily fatigued? I have to lean against this stupid building to get my breath back. I thought I was already out of Middleofnowheresville. There's this one more building then nothing. Slightly exhilarated, and terrified, I have that gut feeling of being watched, I know he's there, on no possible proof. Still I know I have to keep running. I haven't seen him. Soon I'll come to a road, a town, any sign of civilization. _I can escape, I can escape_, even with this big belly I can make it.

Standing there, casually, is him.

It's so completely pointless, but so shocking and sudden, all my hopes were instantly ruthlessly crushed I run-ridiculously-around the house, and as if he materialized instantly he's there. He's against an old busted car, leaning with a sort of cool nonchalance

I don't move. Then slowly back up with tears gathering.

He holds me while grinning a happy non-malicious smile, as if he were genuinely glad to see me. I feel like I'm wilting, I want to sink into the Earth and I'm so worthless and pathetic and I'm whimpering and crying uncontrollably. I can't breathe, I think I might faint.

He doesn't let me faint or even fall. He holds me patiently, when I drop my head he grabs my chin and forces it up and makes me look at him.

"Nooo" I moan is my pathetic little voice. Now I'm crying, not fighting or struggling. Just crying.

"Sh-hhh-hh" he hushes me with that odd voice of his and I try to suppress my whimpers He licks my face and I grimace and try to back away while he continues licking me. I back away, and he holds on, until I find my back literally against the wall.

The whites of his eyes stand out against the darkness of his skin when his eyes grow wide and excited. Like they are now. They are disturbingly familiar-Darry's eyes, and it's disturbing to look into them while he's so aroused. He's licking me rapidly and it's making him very voracious. I know enough to realize that pleading is pointless but still one last useless "no" slips out of my throat before I suppress my tears.

My face, then he starts working on the curve of my neck, down into the valley of my breasts. He kneels down in front of me, it's almost a submissive pose. He puts his hands on my belly and with a swift violent motion he none-to-gently exposes it.

At the sight I unexpectedly burst into tars. Even the monster looked up in surprise. I looked down miserably at the thing I had been desperately trying to conceal for months now. that part of my skin hasn't seen sunlight in a few months. It's big and round and pale, with stretch marks just beginning to form. It looks like I swallowed the moon.

He gives a small happy sound, as if the sight of my pregnancy somehow excites him further. He begins to bury his nose into my belly, sniffing and licking passionately. I lose my will to stand the moment he roughly pulls my pants down. The old house becomes my support as he lowers himself further. I can't see him-my stomach is too big-but I can feel him. And I see in my minds eye I can see his face nuzzling the mound between my legs, savoring the smell and feeling the coarse hairs.

I tried to close my legs but he pried them instantly apart. So I half-squatted half-leaned there, my knees askew, trying to focus my eyes somewhere, anywhere else. My gaze drifted back to the town.

My former slimmer hope felt very foolish now. The town was in plain clear sight. It felt like I had walked a lot but it was barely a hike. No problem for the monster to catch up with me, he never even broke a sweat.

To make things worse it feels so achingly public and humiliating, even though no one is here. I can see the town square through the trees, the fountain is even visible.

I blinked and refocused my eyes on the Creeper, now lapping noisily. My mouth twisted in disgust, when I tried to push his head away he growled in protest, and I intuitively stopped. It reminded me of taking a dog's bowl away. I shivered in her fear.

However the shivering continued. He slyly reached one of his hands up and behind me and put it on the small of my back, groping my ass along the way. He pushed me even further into his face, and instead of merely licking up and down his tongue began to explore inside, pushing in and out repeatedly.

I barely suppress another command of stop. I'm leading forward slightly, I can see the top of his head over my stomach, and a red hot rage comes over me as my hand suddenly aches to hold a knife or club. I want to bash that ugly spiny skull in.

The anger doesn't leave, and like a physical law, the energy converted into something else. Now I can't help but moan a warning, "Noooo please stop," I beg uselessly, but of course he does not, and I know my involuntary outburst has only helped him. His tongue caresses lovingly against the bundle of nerves I had forgotten. A small joyful "eep!" emerged from between my legs. The Creeper shrieked at the discovery, like he found something valuable he lost.

Groaning in equal measures anger and lust, I began to rock back on his face. A second hand soon joined the first pulling me away from the wall completely. And so I was forced into some unnatural position, trying to regain some degree of dignity and suppressed my voice, while the Creeper licked and sucked and made other obscene little noises of anticipation.

I cried out when I finally came, giving up. The creature groaned in ecstasy as it received it's manna. Now I felt embarrassed and slightly disgusted I see his tongue circle around his mouth slowly, savoring.

I felt weak, I pulled away from that mouth and the ground rushed up to meet me.

Before I could even panic however two strong hands caught me, slowed my descent. I found myself eased gently to the ground. It was such a pretty day, the sky I looked up into was perfect and clear.

An ugly head popped into my view ruining it. I hit his nose, hard.

Stung he jerked back and glared at me. I glared back. "Why did you do that?!" I snarled at him. The warm wetness in my legs was still there. I tried to ignore that.

He shrugged as though the answer was obvious. "Hungry," he said briefly, already dipping between my legs again.

When he was finally finished lapping up his treat I tried to stagger up, the extra weight making it difficult. With a light push on my chest I was on the ground again, panting.

"More." He ordered sharply, and he was on me before I could even protest.

**It never ceased to be delicious. Light and sweet and strangely feeling. My mouth screams for more and more, but my body nagged me for its fair share. Ignoring whatever she was screaming at me I push myself into the slick entrance. Savoring the smell, knowing I could force more out soon. Making sure my shaft was positioned exactly above the soft spot, and occasionally using my fingers to stimulate her further I began thrusting vigorously, trying to tease out another gush of pleasure.**

**I look directly into her charming, angry face. It's dangerous for my mouth to be so close in the throws of mating but I have to smell her. I get my claws and teeth and even my wings tangled in that long thick hair.**

**Her stomach is no longer flat, so that is a challenge, when we move I can almost feel it between us. As if he were a little slip of cloth caught in our passion. When I'm this close I can hear her moan for me.**

Much Later

It seemed like a long time, the shadows were deeper. I stumbled back with his arm looped casually around my shoulder. It was relaxed but I knew it would curl and tighten like a python the second he sensed I would stray.

Oddly enough I don't cry, I wonder if I've toughened up, but I doubt that. I can feel all my emotions, I'm just too tired to express them. The escape route seems even more pathetically short on the way back, even with the fresh soreness between my legs. Soon enough the Creeper herds me cheerfully to his car.

I don't really pay attention to where we drive until he taps my shoulder. I shift my body away from him and try to ignore it but the tapping becomes insistent. I look up to see a heap of a factory. I gasp a little in surprise.

The place looked utterly destroyed and for a moment I wonder if he did. But then I see the place is just old. It probably collapsed on it's own after a long time.

"Human things." He tells me, then looks at me questioningly. I shake my head. I have no desire to dig through the ruins. Saying nothing he swings the car around them back to the road towards the school house.

I think I understand this place now. It was probably a one horse company town-until the company moved or the factory closed. It explained the school, their kids probably walked on this road to get there, and remnants like the supermarket still sputtered on into the present day.

After a while I just stop caring about the stupid town.

Night

I've lit the stove, prepared my bath water and now I'm curled up in one of those confining little chair desks I've found.

Sitting in one brings back a wave of nostalgia. Memories of school flood back to me, compared to now school was safe and secure and fun. I remember only the nice teachers and kids, and the friends and games. The safe and warm happy childhood. Now my bloated body barely fits into the little desk.

I finally break down sobbing, trying to ignore the sounds of the screams coming from the ugly BEATNGU.

Outside

**I'm feeling tired. And after finding a different replacement for my foot all my immediate need are satisfied. So I decide to sleep.**

**After unloading the truck I take the body of the foot donor down to the basement. After a while my heart rate slows, my body relaxes. I become less alert. I view the corpse through half closed eyes and soon the mindless task of flaying and preparing a corpse relaxes my mind enough so I don't have to waste energy, although I do keep apart of my mind upon The Breeder upstairs.**

Dream

After a brief but heavy bout of sobbing I fall asleep still on my desk. I'm not surprised that I dream about escaping. I can't run very fast anymore, hell I've never been able to run very fast. But even if I was the fastest runner in the world it won't matter, I wouldn't be able to escape him.

In my dream there's a boy, it's not Darry this boy is younger. For some reason he seems vaguely familiar. Maybe he was a childhood friend or a boy I babysitted-something. I can't quite place it.

The sun reflects easily off his hair, making him easy to spot even in the cornfield. I run quickly after him, despite my big heaviness. The tow headed boy beckons me eagerly onward.

He leads me to a break in the field and gestures happily to a dark ugly object.

_B-E-A-T-N-G-U_I mouth out.

Suddenly I'm afraid, too afraid to go near the truck. Too much has happened I don't want to go near it. However the boy has already opened the door and hopped in, happy and oblivious.

_NO_! I scream. I have to save this little boy from innocently wandering to this truck and being killed. He beckons me eagerly forward. I'm afraid, but I can't let this happen.

_Get away!_ I scream but he merely grins and beckons me in further. I try to grab his arms but he scoots over and pats the driver's seat, indicating I should sit there.

I want to slap his smiling face. Doesn't he realize how stupid he's being?! He could come back any minute! But to my shock, he turns to me with a calm authoritative assurance and says "Maria, The Creeper won't come back, start the truck."

I get a strange feeling I sometimes get with Darry, but I obediently start the engine.

Suddenly I'm small again. I can barely reach the peddles, or see over the dash. The engine screams and the car disobeys me, like it knows I'm not its master, it's terrifying careening down the road like this. I scream hysterically, trying to gain control, thinking I'm going to die.

It's the boy who saves me, serenely tells me everything I need to do, as if he was the adult and I was the child. Slowly I regain control and we tear up the asphalt, easily going over 100 MPH. When I ask him how he knew all this I only get a cryptic _country kids learn to drive young_ from him.

The rest of the dream is happy. We drive off forever and I know I'm free.

-------------------------------------

A/N: THANKYOU for all your continued support throughout my lack of inspiration/sheer laziness, you've really prodded me into working. Really.I DO have my story all planned out and most of the ending is already written! However the spring semester is starting, and there's that weekend job as a sandwich monkey… Support is still very much appreciated! I refuse to let this fic die.


	21. Chapter 21

When I awoke it was so blindingly obvious that I felt appalled at my own stupidity

When I awoke it was so blindingly obvious that I felt appalled at my own stupidity.

_Steal the damn truck._

I look out the window; it was still sitting there in the moonlight, now looking oddly beautiful. Just sitting there, waiting for any one to just come along and take it. Waiting for me.

_I can do this._

After a brief unbearably euphoric moment I stop as all the worries and logistical problems flood my mind. It's noisy, I don't know how to start, or drive it. I'm sure he can out distance a truck, even one as souped up as this one.

_I can do this._

The temptation is too much though, this might be my only way out, I have to act now when I have the chance. If I don't-I conjure hideous images, me with him, forever, growing fatter, weaker, more complacent, and more docile. Losing the will to live, the ability to think.

_Oh God please no._

Unless I get out. Now.

Trembling I get up, the world is surreal, for a moment I'm sure this isn't real. I'm in a movie. The truck continues to sit innocuously in the moonlight. Still shaking I set out to the front door. I feel like lightning will strike me dead any moment. I pray to God and the Virgin and all the saints I know. Shockingly, miraculously, the door is open.

The night is eerily quiet, not even crickets.

For a moment I just have to stand there. It might sound odd, but I had to be still to absorb the moment, so to speak. I had to listen, to make sure this was all real. That the Creeper wouldn't come bursting out any minute. I remember all my senses are heightened, I can smell dirt and vegetation and dew. The full moon cast strange razor sharp shadows on everything.

The unrealness passed a little when I took my first step. _Surely the car door isn't even open_. It pops open easily with a rusty squeak and I have to pause and listen in terror. I slowly ease my way in_, there'll be no keys._ The keys are in the ignition, in fact they don't even come out. I actually sat there, blankly staring out the windshield. I can run now, should I run now? Should I wait for a better time, get supplies? _NO, RUN NOW!_

I snap out of my trance, almost panicking. I turn the ignition, for one second it doesn't ignite, I almost feel like exploding from the tension, another twist a second later and it catches. The car gives a deep throaty roar and comes to life. The tension remains, now coupled with fear and joy and excitement.

The car is too big for me, I feel like I need a booster seat. The rear-view mirror is worthless, there's no way to look behind with the huge storage container in the back of the truck. I anxiously glance in the mirror on my left, in which I can see the bulkhead. All the while my right hand and feet are desperately groping around, to figure out how to get this thing to work. Like a nightmare the Creeper bursts out of the bulkhead, screaming and flaring his crest and charging straight at me.

I'm sure I was screaming too, but in my memories it was drowned out. I'm stomping the gas and yanking the stick. _Oh right, clutch_ a small still working part of my mind intones. I find it and desperately wrench it out of park. Unfortunately and fortunately I threw it into reverse.

Unfortunate because now I was heading straight toward the Creeper, the last thing I wanted to do. Fortunate because I had forgotten about the old engine sitting just behind the truck. So did the Creeper. Somehow in my stupid panic I ran over it, maybe launched over it is a better phrase. In that moment I caught a split second of the Creeper's face, anger and rage replaced with shock and dismay. Terrified I shut my eyes; I only heard a loud THUMP and a screech.

Somehow I realized I had just ran over him.

Gasping in disbelief myself, I pulled the stick into some kind of gear, any gear that would go forward. The car groaned and I heard another scream, somewhat weaker this time. The rear left seemed to sag for a moment then the whole car righted itself, and I was out of there.

**I lay there in shock, the agony overwhelming. I try to get up but can't. I heard the Breeder in a place where she was not supposed to be. I heard the ignition starting, and was confused at first, and then I realized and rushed up to the surface. I was angry but at first I thought she was just being errant again, playing around where she shouldn't be. Then I realized a moment later that she might be trying to run away.**

**Even that didn't worry me too much, not even my truck can escape my wings, so naturally I ran to the truck, hoping to stop it before she could get away without causing too much damage to it. What I didn't anticipate was that she would drive **_**toward**_** me.**

**It caught me off guard for a second, but before I had time even to recover from that I found my own truck leap off the ground and right on top of me. Involuntarily I screamed in pain, the Breeder was screaming too.**

**I could feel the massive weight on my stomach. Painful, but the truck jerking its left back tire off my stomach was even worse. One of my lungs refused to inflate, and my stomach and lovely new intestines were ruined.**

**I heard the sound of my truck, with my favorite little plaything inside of it, drive off.**

**Through the pain and immobility my mind tried to grasp this fact. It was…hard for me to understand. My Breeder, my property, just left, taking my second favorite possession with her. It was as if one of my knives got up and stole my truck, or one of my corpses. It seemed unreal to me, a feeling I am very, very unused to.**

**I felt like wailing, gnashing my teeth with rage. Yes it was true humans had minds and wills of their own-some of them do anyway- but it seemed particularly offensive that such a useful necessary thing, a breeder, would leave my necessary possession, with another of my belongings, with **_**my**_** child.**

**I looked up forlornly, the road was empty and the air quiet. My guts were spilling out. When I managed to finally get up I had to hold them in with one hand. Luckily my wings weren't too damaged, they were folded behind my back, but they had been delivered a nasty shock. They opened painfully. I ignored the pain. I now had to hunt for a human with guts. (I smirk to myself at the pun) She had driven the tire off in between my legs. Guts and nuts. **

On the Road

I was so panicked, so manic, so frenzied to get away that I just pushed that truck out of there, not caring if I was in the right gear, or where I was going. I just had to get out.

I drove right out the schoolhouse, right passed the supermarket, driving down the same road the Creeper took me to earlier today. Wait. I didn't want to go there, it was a dead end. I stopped the car and tried to throw it in reverse. Nothing happened. "Right, clutch. _Clutch_. Who the hell drives stick shift nowadays?" I mutter to myself. I don't like going down the road I just fled from but I forced myself to control my panicky flight instinct. Back passed the supermarket, down to the main road. Once I'm on the nine I gun it.

It's incredibly odd driving stick, and the power of this truck is shocking, although not entirely unfamiliar. Gears grind as I struggle to remember half-forgotten motions. The truck bucks in resistance. I smile at the dream. I thank my older brother for teaching me to drive stick. I thank the little boy for the dream.

It frightens me a little, after a lifetime of speed limits and months of imprisonment, but driving away from the Creeper at well past 100 MPH feels undeniably wonderful. I don't know where I'm going. I don't care. After a while I can even see the sun start to rise in front of me.

I feel hope, I feel joy. I'm free. Nothing else matters. I actually roll down the window, being free feels so good it hurts. Tears stream down my face. I start screaming, I punch the air.

No one appears on the road. I don't necessarily consider this a bad thing.

Later

It was well after sunrise, the pedal was still to the floor. I sort of snap out of my trance, some of the overwhelming joy begins to ebb. I look at the gas meter, this car isn't terribly fuel efficient, and me pushing it mercilessly hasn't helped.

_What will I do?_ I look around the landscape a little more, the very first edges of panic starting to grow. The landscape is very desolate looking. Not only that, it has a mind-numbing flat similarity to it. It looks the same as everywhere else he's driven me in the past few weeks.

What will I do if I run out of gas? I have no money; I curse myself for not planning this better. Still my mood is at this point still overwhelming optimistic. I just did what I though was impossible. I'm away from him. I look down, _I still have plenty of gas_, I told myself. I'm speeding away from that monster forever, and-I feel a perverse squirm of pleasure, _I injured him_. I don't know how badly but I know I ran over him.

I know that I'm a different person now, it disquiets me to remember that before I would have never taken pleasure by hurting anything. It would have appalled me to think that way. But I dismiss such a thought. He deserved it. I concentrate on the car.

I had gotten it to a point where I felt like I could drive somewhat comfortably. The car didn't groan or scream when I pushed it this much. I decided to slow down. I thought at that point maybe I was far enough, I didn't want to waste gas unnecessarily, not to mention I didn't want to be pulled over in this truck with God-knows-what in the back. I squint in the distance. There's a stop sign.

_On this road_? I ask myself incredulously_. I haven't seen a car in_-Yup it's a stop sign. I slow the car. It moans and I hastily try to shift into some lower gear. It vibrates in protest. I manage to hit the break and roll to a stop. I look both ways, raising myself over the dashboard. I feel like a child driving a car. No one as far as the eye can see. I sigh at the pointless stop sign. The car goes dead.

A drop of ice falls into my stomach_, no, no, no_, ok good I started it again. I just let it die accidentally, I've done that before when I've stopped, no big deal I assure myself. I look both ways, maybe I could go down a little side street? Would it be safer to travel in the back roads, twisting and turning so that he would have more trouble finding me?

Finally I decide no it's better just to travel down the only road I even vaguely know. Besides this place is practically a back road as it is. I'm sure that if I just follow it I can come to someplace. A little friendly town somewhere (The picture in my mind is of Mayberry from the Andy Griffith show). Once I get to that little outpost of civilization I'll be safe. I can call the police, or my family. I can figure something out, it'll be alright. Everything will work out somehow when I get to my little perfect town.

Since there's nobody around I allow myself to speed up a little. Where is everybody? I never imagined there was just big pieces of the country so empty like this. Of course the Creeper had driven me through it but I was wrapped up to much in my own misery to really notice or care, but now I wonder how a person can live all alone out here, away from civilization.

I'll find a small town, and everything will just work out.

Noon

It's fucking sweltering and I'm starving.

I'm still driving in what seems like forever and yet still no sign of anything it seems. I know there has to be a town, a police station, anything. Its worse with all the corn harvested because now there's a just a flat, dusty, desolate nothingness. I managed to get my coat off while driving (the car repaid me by dropping speed, grinding because it was in the wrong gear and swerving all over the road) but I couldn't stop. I managed to find an ancient window roller, and it snapped nearly in half when I tugged it too hard, leaving the window half way down.

It surprised me when I felt cool air rushing in, I keep forgetting its winter. I wonder if it snows around here. The dark shade of the truck absorbs the sun, making hotter than it should have been, or so it seemed to me. This truck really hates me.

What's more pressing is my hunger. I keep hoping I come across a gas station, a nice well-lit one with a store attached so big you can practically go grocery shopping in. _Why didn't I bring food? _Because I had to rush out and escape that why. I still keep hoping and looking for some place, even though I don't have any money to buy what I need.

Later

On second thought I wouldn't mind a police officer or highway patrolman or something. He could drive me back somewhere and understand and call my family for me.

I did see one car, I was so excited that I actually leaned forward over the dashboard, looking at it longingly, wondering if I should stop it and flag it down. It was traveling the opposite direction of me. I was so distracted that I might have driven a little too much on his side of the road, he swerved quickly away from me and sped off. I cringed at my stupidity and expected a honk yet none came. Was it my imagination or did he disappear more quickly than usual in my side mirror?

After some thought I realize I might be protected from all cops and motorists from the crazy creepy aura emanating from my choice of transport.

_Once I find civilization everything will be alright. Things will just work out when I come to a town._

I'm still optimistic though! Although I'm pretty shocked how much the needle moves away from "Full" every time I see it. Its still just a little under half. I blink, no a little less than that, but that's ok because I'll find someplace safe soon enough.

I know I've traveled along way because it's felt like it's been hours. Mind-numbing hours. Yet at the same time I scarily feel like I've gotten no where, that's because everything looks fucking the same! Same bare fields, same poles. I once saw what looked like a barnyard, and I decided to go up to I, took forever to find the place the led up to it, but it looked and felt desolate and empty and abandoned so I just drove on, berating myself for wasting the gas.

What's funny is the idea of actually going somewhere some what frightens me. What will I do? I keep imagine walking into a room full of people and they all look at me and I just can't say anything. I can't because I don't know what to say. If I start babbling about monsters and bodies and all the awful things he's done what would happen then? They would walk around me with the same animal nervousness, like the car when it swerved around the BEATNGU

I remember my trip to the supermarket. How good it felt to be around humans and human things again. But how I felt horror and fear and how I just shied away from everybody after a while. How I just wanted to get out of there.

When in the schoolhouse I think of myself curled up in misery and entropy and how it took a lot to get me just to get up and to try to escape. In a way that was less frightening than the world, which now seems so desolate and big.

I snap out of my reverie when I see another car, for some reason this cheers me. To my surprise I see a big transport truck a little after that. Then another. Hmmm. It curves a little where they're coming from. Naturally I follow it down. It slopes down a hill gently.

Twilight.

The lateness crept up on me. I feel, and I know I must look like a person driving for hours straight must feel. Like crap.

I finally,_ finally_ found a truck stop. That's it. It's a few little buildings, grubby looking gas stations mostly. A small closed shop selling touristy stuff and "genuine Indian jewelry" or whatever. The BEATNGU gave me one last resentful shutter and jerk before I turned it off, and shoved the stick into what I hoped was park.

One truck rolled menacingly by and roared off as I got out of the BEATNGU, nearly fell to the ground. And stretched my legs.

It was cold out, I reached in and retrieved my coat, and set off with some purpose to the brightest looking building.

Ever since I walked out of the schoolhouse everything feels like a dream, sometimes a nightmare. Sometimes things slip into a better since of normalcy, especially during the long drive when I was hypnotized by the sameness and blandness of the road. Now everything is a dream again. For a moment all I could do was stare stupidly. Then walk timidly in.

As I predicted everyone inside the restaurant/shop stopped and stared. There was not a lot of people; but I nearly swooned at their gaze. Just now I remember I'm still wearing my pajamas from last night, after rolling around with the Creeper, tennis shoes with no socks and my coat. I still can catch a whiff kerosene. My hair and face are greasy after almost two days without bathing. I haven't combed my hair in probably longer. A little bit of my belly is already sticking out.

Like the grocery store I want to run out crying. I flinch and jump at everything especially when the waitress asks if I need help. The waitress, who looks remarkably like the grocery store lady, looks me up and down warily. I can feel myself being judged by all eyes in the room. I shrink back into myself a little.

"I"-no sound comes out so I clear my throat and try again "I need a telephone please?"

The waitress puffs her cheeks and blows out air, as if my request will be incredibly difficult. "There's a pay phone back there," she gestures, "don't know if it'll work or not."

I murmur some word of thanks and head toward the back, where there is indeed a payphone. I don't even have a quarter on me. I could call collect, or call 911. _Would that help?_ I think dizzily. I doubted cops would be that effective against the Creeper. I could just say I was kidnapped, but then I would still have to explain what happened to me. I could lie of course, but I didn't have a story rehearsed. Besides I the idea of going into detail of what happened just terrifies me.

I chew on my knuckle until it bleeds, I can call collect to home, ask my father or someone to come all the way out here and pick me up. Surely they would miss me so much that they would hurry over and not ask any questions right away, wouldn't they? I just want to go home and lay in my safe familiar bed. Tears are threatening. Yes and I would never leave it again. I wish I had my mother, someone just o hug me. But she's dead. With a massive effort I hold my tears back.

When I pick up the phone my other hand slides absentmindedly down. _Oh God!_ I think with a massive shock of horror. What will I say about this?! Tears drip down but I remain silent. There's no way I could hide this, at least not for long, I'm already starting to show, if that checkout lady was any indication. Then what will I do when it comes? Hysteria is beginning to overtake me, as it always does whenever I think about this subject. I can't cope, I just can't. II have no idea what to do, I just…I just wish I had someone, anyone. Someone to tell me what to do. I completely fall apart when there's no dial tone.

Everyone is now completely silent, staring at me; I can't stand it and I have to run outside.

The cool air feels good, especially when my skin feels hot and flushed with embarrassment. I simply cannot think rationally when it comes to- I put my hand over my stomach. With this there is no certainty or planning. Just blind terror.

The question forms of what my family would do if I managed to get to them and tell them. It feels reassuring to think my father or someone would come up with a plan. I want to go home.

Trouble is I won't get far without more gas. Without really thinking I head over to the well lit center in the gas station, where an incredibly bored looking man sits reading a newspaper.

He looks at me without any apparent note of my appearance. "What number?" he asks routinely, boredom in his one is clear.

"N-number?" I ask slightly dumbfounded. He glares at me, uncomfortable I suddenly remember. In another time, another universe I had a car and could buy gasoline for it without looking like an idiot. I glance behind me. In the station I can see pumps with numbers. Of course I've done this before. The BEATNGU sits some ways away in the dark, looking menacing.

"I," I take a breath and plunge ahead "I don't have any money." I admitted.

With a mix of anger and disbelief he heaves a heavy sigh he throws down his newspaper and looks at me. I'm sure I look dumb and pathetic and lost. Tempered just a bit by pity he says "Well I guess I can't help you."

I understand. I merely retreat into the shadows, feeling humiliated.

I cry of course, not really caring who sees or hears me. I think about just heading to the truck, but I actually fear it in the dark. So I just sit down on some porch somewhere and cry.

I don't know how long I cry. A lot of half-formed plans and ideas form in my head. Some worse than others. I can just take the car and drive as far as it takes me. (I imagine stranded on some desolate road somewhere) Or I can hitchhike (I imagine my corpse by the roadside, complete with an oddly distressed looking Creeper beside it.) I only have a vague idea of where I am, but I know the farther I get away the better.

I just have to get somewhere with a phone.

After a while I calm down a little bit. The more time I spend from the monster the better. I may have been like a bird the first time out of It's cage, confused and bewildered and actually preferring the initial feeling of safety, but with every passing second I grow a little more bolder and confident that I made the right decision_. No matter how hard and scary it is_ I thought in misery.

Sometime after I hear a boot step behind me.

Instantly I'm up and pumped full of adrenaline. Despite my heavy stomach I manage to get up so quickly it surprises even me. I spin around and face whoever tried to sneak up behind me. The man is frozen, a little stunned with my sudden reaction. I study him, and recognize him from the restaurant; he was sitting at the bar. He wears cowboy boots and a big silver belt buckle. He's tall and thin and wears black. He looks friendly enough. I'm so shaken and suspicious of everything I immediately back away and go into defensive mode. I can tell he is surprised.

I don't care. I can't stand any strange men around me. I glare at him warily.

Finally he talks, in a not unkind tone. "I talked to the gas station attendant. He said you got no money."

I say nothing.

A little hesitant he says. "I thought I could help out."

Now I'm unsure, he wants to give me money? "I don't have anything." I say bluntly, unsure of why he's doing this. He merely chuckles. "This is jus' my contribution, darlin'." He pulls out some bills, leaving me sputtering; he waves away my protests with an airy hand. "Jus' hopes this gets you where you need to go." And smiles at me, I give a shaky smile back. He heads towards his semi.

"Wait!" I call out. He pauses. "Where are you going?"

He smiles his nice smile. "Well I'm goin' up a little further north then I suppose I'll be headin' west on the nine."

West on the nine, where I had just come from. "Be careful." I tell him. He merely nods. "No really! There's been a lotta, uh, weird deaths and disappearances." I don't mention the monster. "They say it's a serial killer." I added. He merely raises his eyebrows. "Thanks for the news, I'll be careful." He pauses, "where you headed?"

I pause, unsure. He gestures south, "there's a town down there aways, you could probably make it and find a phone."

I thank him profusely and warn him again. "Please, just be careful up there-" He smiles and waves away concern again. "I will be, always have been darlin'" He won't, I know he won't be because he won't know what he's dealing with. "Stay away from gas stations." I warn him cryptically, remembering my own horrible experience. I thank him again.

I pull around the truck, enjoying the uncomfortable look on the gas station manager's face. The money the trucker gave me was enough for around half a tank, plus some cheap gas station fare I wolfed down without tasting.

I feel better, energized, I now have a definite goal in mind: get to the town. I also feel so happy at the unexpected kindness, in a world filled with cruelty and evil and death. The trucker reminded me of Elsa Daniels, a sudden stab of sadness. I don't like to think about her, as mean as it sounds. What happened to her was just so unfair and awful. I pray silently for the trucker, hoping nothing happens to him.

I speed onwards, trying to find some way to turn on the headlights without crashing. It's very dark and scary, but as I speed off I sill have hope, thinking I'll see the town any minute.

Thinking of Elsa reminds me of something else. When I stayed with her I felt scared and unclean and just plain miserable it I had to resist the urge to lie on the bed all day,. But I had also felt like I had to get out, get out of her house and her little town and just leave. I was still in his territory, his country hunting ground. Everything felt like it was his.

I don't know where his range ends, I just know to get away, the farther the better. When I reach the human world everything will be better. When I reach the small town everything will be alright.

**This prey wasn't very satisfying. Middle aged, not a good stomach, fat and slow and terrified.**

**However I wasn't hunting and enjoying it today. There was no sport in this, merely satisfying a need. I gathered what parts I needed merely to keep going. I grimace at the subtle bitterness in the lungs, he abused them sometime in his youth, not wonderful organs but they'll do. If that little breeder hadn't run over me-**

**I inhale, testing them out. I rarely feel like this. Anger, I'm angry. Normally it's an emotion I get over quickly. It's stupid to stew in it, it merely wears you, saps you, and makes you weak.**

**I want my breeder, I want my truck back. Humans might attack her and destroy her or the child. Or, as unlikely as it seems, she might just get away forever. Even if she does try to run away farther than I have ever gone than I will chase her anyway. Farther than anywhere.**

**I look down at the victim, no time to do anything with him, so I leave the rest of his useless body.**

**My wings still work, and that's all I have, more than enough.**

**The landscape unfurls itself to me, marred only by the grey ribbon of road. The only road, the one she must have take, and humans are so predictable. Like almost all others, she must long for the smell and cramped closeness of her own kind. She'll head to the nearest biggest human settlement, where she'll feel safe in their buildings.**

**I can detect just the barest whiff of her scent, a few delectable spore. It's very faint, I knew she must have passed here a long time ago, still I can seek her out. Find her scent and track it despite it being diluted in the air. Like a shark detecting a drop of blood in a million drops of seawater.**

**There's only really one road to follow, and no place to hide in my territory.**

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short, spring semester starting, getting a job buying a car, getting rid of the car, taking finals, quitting the job, buying another car, taking summer school, being asked back on the job, celebrating a birthday, my mom breaking the computer somehow, well… let's just say life just got in the way.

Maria's adventures with stick shift mirror my own recent attempts to learn. Mine didn't go this well though. 


	22. Chapter 22

**I pursued relentlessly. Her scent was still in the air, somewhat still traceable. I have to find her.**

**The truck was very fast, and she had somewhat of a head start, but I do not pause, do not tire. She needs to rest, I do not.**

**I will find her.**

**Sometimes I drop to the long ribbon of road beneath me. I sniff the air sometimes even go on all fours, press my ear to the road, and sniff the air. I am ravenous, I pant with effort. I cannot wait until I find her.**

**Very few vehicles passed by.**

_Nearby my ass._ I think. It feels like I've been driving for hours and my gas is low again. I curse the trucker, than immediately regret it and take it back. Without him I wouldn't have gotten even this far after all. I think longingly of my wallet with cash-which is still back at the schoolhouse. Almost all my possessions are back there.

But it doesn't matter. Possessions are completely worthless compared to your life, your freedom. I will never take anything for granted again.

_Soon I will be free. _In hindsight I can see the flaws of my recent escape. I was hasty, didn't put that planning into it, there was some supplies I should have taken....but it's not like I've had a lot of life experience escaping from monsters, and I'm determined to not to have to do it again.

My thoughts drift from the past to the future. I realize I'm going to have trouble thinking about this, I put my arm around my stomach. What will happen what would they do? A blurry parade of options passes before me. My family will help, but what will they do? In a way I feel relief, the decision will be out of my hands. Would they even believe me.? Now I regret not taking something else-proof of the Creeper's existence. Then I chide myself for being stupid. _The proof will come in a few months _I feel sharp little pains all inside my stomach.

I have to calm myself down, I can't think about this. I can't lose focus. I don't think of the future. Just a little goal in front of me.: Get to the town. Then: Get to a phone.

I know I have to stop crying, stop acting like a weak little girl. I have to be strong. How ashamed I feel of myself, how incompetent I feel! I just focus on the goal, the cute, quaint safe little town.

I've seen nothing that can tell me how far away it is, or if it even exists. I once passed a sign but I was going too fast to read it, and I didn't feel like going back to look at it. _I'm sure it's just ahead; just another bend and I'll see it. _

**I catch her scent. I see a human hive of activity in the distance. Bright lights push back the darkness and I hear in the distance the rumble of heavy trucks. I grow excited, surely she came here. I knew she would run back to her own kind. Whether or not they would accept her is another matter.**

The truck makes a familiar sputtering sound, "Oh noooo" I moan, even though I no it's inevitable, the needle is down, and I recognize this sound. The truck is out of gas.

_Don't panic_. I try to reassure myself. I knew it would happen eventually, I just hoped I would make it to the town first. I try restarting the car, but it won't, it refuses me. I have no choice, I have to walk it.

I think I can see lights in the distance, which comforts me. I start hiking on the desolate gravelly road. I'm in my pajamas, I have on a coat and some shoes. This is all I have.

The moonlight fades, and I look up fearfully, dark clouds. The tall wild-looking grass sways. I hear a coyote howl in the distance.

I walk faster.

**I am fascinated. I am always fascinated with her scent, and I can smell hers all around. **

**This is not a very settled area, merely a few dirty looking buildings, and large trucks hauling big white boxes in the back.**

**I wonder if she is here. I try to catch her scent again. Most humans don't notice. There are not many here, I sniff around discreetly. The few humans continue on, oblivious as always.**

**I trace the scent to one of the trucks, a tall man dressed in black leans against his truck, smoking nonchalantly.**

**I dislike the scent, but underneath I can smell something. I can smell **_**her**_**. Circling around cautiously and staying in the shadows I observe the man. Another is pumping something into his big truck, it smells like fuel. **

**When he is done the man pumping the fuel goes to the man smoking. He casually flicks the object in his mouth onto the ground, which he stamps on with his boot.**

**I take a moment to admire his boots.**

**I look up for a moment and see the man with the boots hand the other some money. They say something, I can't quite hear what, then they depart. **

**I circle around again, I doubt the woman is here, perhaps she is with the man with the boots, the thought which enrages me. I see no sign of her. He gets into his truck and starts it up. I sniff the air again.**

**The big truck lumbers off and I land discreetly on to it, feeling the wind in my hair, feeling the excitement of another hunt.**

John "Snakeskin" Rutherford picked up the speaker on his radio, hoping to contact his friend. He got his CB radio handle from the fancy snakeskin boots he always wore. He was very proud of them, and kept them spotless.

He was also feeling a nice warm sense of satisfaction one gets when helping someone who desperately needed it.

She looked so sad and pitiful, asking the waitress for a phone then looked close to tears when she ran out of the diner. Later he eavesdropped on her conversation with the gas station manager. She was stranded, poor thing.

It was surprising how she reacted though, twisting away from the sound of his boot steps like a frightened cat. Initially very wary and edgy around him she eventually seemed to realize his intentions were good and gratefully took his money for gas.

She had very long, somewhat matted looking hair, and was oddly dressed. It looked she was wearing a coat over pajamas.

What he remembered most however was her eyes: big, dark and desperate. He suspected she was pregnant underneath odd looking clothes.

"Ricochet you there?" he spoke into his radio, searching for a friend he knew should be around here. He was about to repeat his friend's call sign again when he heard a loud THUMP on the roof of his cab.

He stopped talking abruptly, wondering what the hell that was. The radio crackled slightly, he put the piece he was holding back into its holder. As he did so he caught a flash of something horrible in the corner of his eye.

He swerved his rig around slightly in panic, then caught himself. Luckily there was no else around to injure on the road. He shifted and slowed down his truck. He felt his heart pound in his chest.

John was still nervous, but already halfway convincing himself it was nothing. _It was just my imagination, nothing to worry ab- "_AHHHHHH!"he erupted out loud as his newly regained calm was shattered by the fact a hideous dark claw had punched it's way through the roof of his truck.

He screamed shrilly as he swerved around the road, trying to dodge the blindly groping claw. Having the good sense to keep his foot firmly on the brake he threw himself sideways onto his seat. The rig screeched to a halt. When he looked up, the hand was gone.

But the hole was still there.

The crucifix he kept hanging and his mirror was swinging slightly, and tapping his windshield gently. _Tap, tap, tap_. It was the only sound in the air.

The world beyond his glaring headlights was dark and foreboding. He groped in his glove compartment for his pistol. He knew he couldn't just sit there under the hole so, still scared out of his wits, he quickly opened his door and got out, quickly.

He hoped to see whatever was on his roof immediately but nothing was there.

John took a deep shaking breath. He knew what he saw. He wasn't crazy. He looked around. Nothing. Some trees moved genly in the breeze. Highway Nine looked peaceful.

It seemed all he had heard came flooding back in an instant, all the stories told about this place blurred through his head, on top of which was a young girl's warning. A girl who looked at him with big desperate eyes.

He swiftly turned around, cocking his gun.

No one was there. But he felt eyes on him.

The monster crept closer. He had looked in the truck and found no sign of the girl, to his disappointment, but the man still intrigued him.

After no one seemed around he turned back to his truck. Unfortunately someone was already waiting for him there.

--------

I paused to unstick some burrs from my body and pebbles from my shoe. I am tired already. My stomach hurts. I am heavier and much less energetic now than I was a few months ago.

I can't see the awful BEATNGU anymore, and the town definitely seems closer. I think I can even see a hint of dawn over the horizon. However the moon has long since set, and it's terribly dark.

I've heard coyotes in the distance, and at one point I though they were coming closer. I think I'm too big to be attacked by a coyote, but I carried a few heavy stones just in case. After a while I just got so tired I dropped them.

_Just a few minutes_, I think. _A few minutes to recover._

_No_, I tell myself. _Just get to the town, then you can rest_.

I keep trudging forward.

**After relieving him of his boots, hat and some of his skin, I can only smell a brief connection to the Breeder. They met, and maybe touched briefly. The thought makes me feel uneasiness.**

**He moaned and thrashed pitifully, I found a small bed in the back and I wrapped the weakened man into one of his white sheets and stuck him in there out of the way. He moaned weakly, occasionally.**

**Despite my anger and desperation to find her I was delighted with the truck. It had much more powerful than my usual one. I was able to turn it around and barrel it down the correct direction of the highway, to where I knew the Breeder went. A little torture idol on a string swung around as I did so.**

**On my way a crackling caught my attention.**

"**Hey Snakeskin."**

**I ignored the voice coming from the radio.**

"**Hey Snakeskin ya there?"**

**I pushed some buttons, not understanding how such a thing worked. It crackled and hissed.**

"**Snakeskin buddy, you ok? Talk to me man." The voice sounded worried. I picked up a piece at the end of a long curly wire, fully intending to break it and silence the noise.**

**However as I did a notion came over me and I smiled slightly.**

"**Snakeskin it's Richochet, wha-" I clicked the button.**

"**Rick-o-shay." I rasped out. He interrupted me. "Who is this?! Where is Snakeskin?" the voice demanded.**

"**This is Eater," I said, then added. "Snakeskin's been skinned!"**

--------

It had happened very suddenly. I stopped, out of breath, keeping an eye on the lights of the tiny little town. I gasped, not much farther now.

As he drove recklessly down the side spur that led to the little town he nearly slammed into his own beloved truck, left in the middle in the road.

The monster screeched to halt, kicking up tons of dust. The man in the back rolled forward and groaned in agony. Sniffing wildly he jumped out of the truck and ran to the smaller black one.

Its door was still open, his inhaling became frantic. She was not in here. He sniffed the ground, she had fled on foot. He took to the air.

-----------

I was pushing myself onward when it came out of nowhere.

By the time I had processed the fact that something was behind me my coat and pajama top and already been pulled over my head and I was being dragged brutally back.

Of course I screamed. I screamed and screamed but no one came. I felt like a rag doll, a strong arm pulled me heedlessly across the rocky ground. I kicked uselessly. In my desperation I hit my feet to the ground and realized I can try some resistance. I dug my heels into the round, my captor merely gave me a harder yank and my right shoe fell off. I struggled ferociously, so hysterical that couldn't think straight, I realized later how foolish I was to resist. But all he did was merely tighten his grip and dig his fingers into my flesh.

The next thing I remember is was being slammed onto a flat hard surface. I screamed again. My captor did not respond in any way. I could feel my pajama bottoms being ripped. I called for God, my mother, anybody. No one came and interfered.

I remember his hand still holding my shirt over my head, I couldn't see him. I remember one of the buttons was caught in my mouth. I remember feeling horribly stifled.

A lot of what happened that night is now just a painful blur, or a black out. Every time I think about it my mind winces and closes, trying to protect me from such a painful wound.

For a moment I wondered if this was even the Creeper, since it seemed so different from before. There was no passionate licking or sniffing. He didn't eagerly dip is head in between my legs. For some reason the possibility of being kidnapped and taken by a complete stranger horrified me even more.

He just pounded brutally and angrily into me. It hurt, a lot. I think it hurt even worse than the first time, and I had been a virgin then. I don't how long it took, longer than usual. Several times he stopped, growling. When I thought he was done he merely did it again.

And again.

"Oh God." I moaned to myself. I think he went on all night.

When I though he was finally done, I was weeping, begging. I was a puddle. I think I peed myself in terror.

"Please," was all I could say coherently. "Please, please." I had never felt such pain before in my life. I could barely breathe for the crying, and my cries were nearly silent because I was so overwhelmed. I just laid there shuddering and choking.

I saw indeed it was the Creeper; he looked at me without expression. I knew he was enraged. He liked to manipulate me, liked me to feel pleasure while he did horrible things to me. Now he didn't bother, he just hurt me.

I also realized where I was, in the back of his truck. I was laying face up, the doors were open around me. My legs dangled down, or they would have if he wasn't holding them and spreading them apart painfully.

When he was done using me he simply heaved me up and tossed me fully in the back. Like I was a sack of garbage.

_Wait_, I thought because I didn't have the strength to say it out loud, but he already slammed the door shut. I caught one last glimpse of his cruel, angry face.

How long I laid there I don't know. I thought I heard him going to the driver's seat and trying to start it, which of course it wouldn't do. I thought I heard him go off into the distance, but what he was doing there I couldn't guess. Instead I heard noises coming from the side of the truck.

The next thing I could remember was an uncomfortable jostling. With every jolt from the road a searing pain shot in between my legs. I didn't know if my eyes were open or closed; it was too dark to tell. But I realized that we were moving, going back up the road.

Going back to hell.

I might've cried, if I wasn't crying constantly already.

It smelled awful in here. It smelled only of rot and death. I felt like gagging with each breath, it only contributed to my difficulties breathing. The noxious scent was so thick I could taste it.

For a long while I simply laid there, weaving in and out of consciousness, completely limp. After some time, I don't know how much, I tried to stand, I fell over. I stayed there for a while then I tried again, the car made a particular hard swerve and toppled over again.

I thought he did it on purpose.

The third time I managed to get to my feet and cling for dear life to one of the doors I wailed in agony, but the truck did not slow. I groped blindly for a handle but of course there was none. I was trapped.

My bare foot touched something wet and sticky. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. The horror struck me _what have been laying on?_ I could feel several lumpy things. I could feel sharp things crusted with some dried fluid. It didn't take a lot to imagine what all this was.

I began to feel dizzy, I couldn't breathe. Claustrophobia was setting in. I began banging on the doors, screaming, wanting them to break open and pitch me onto the road. I broke away from the useless doors and tripped over the lumpy things and began banging on the back, where he knew he could here me.

"LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT PLEASE." I screamed in hysteria. The skin on my fist scraped loose with the force of my pounding. "LET ME OUT, I'LL NEVER RUN AGAIN. P-P-PLEASE!" I sank down to my knees. I banged again, "CAN'T BREATHE!" I screeched. "I CAN'T BREATHE!"

After what seemed like forever the truck finally swerved and stopped. I curled up in the back.

The doors opened again, letting the grey dawn light flood in. I cowered and hid my face, but he dragged me out. He treated me like an inanimate object, dragging me along wherever he wanted. He trussed me up with my hands behind my back, cutting off my circulation. He tossed me in the front seat. I didn't remember much else.

--------

After this I wished I hadn't run. It made everything only more difficult. I was so afraid of his 'punishment' that I cowered and cringed like a beaten dog. Not that he ever hit me with his hands or any other object, even after my escape attempt, but now he was much harsher, far more brutal. I was bound in some way almost every minute of the day. I was forced viciously, and he was no where near as gentle as before, I was often bitten and scratched painfully. He still took care of me, made sure I would eat or wasn't hurt but there was a wall of ice between us now. He never spoke to me, and I just trembled in his presence. All of my rebellion was gone.

The next few months I thought of as the Crying Time for I was rarely not tied up and in tears. I had far less freedom then I ever had before.

--------

There were rumors floating around. There always were, but now they were flying thick and fast. Often they were different versions of the same one. He wandered from town to town. To every dusty hamlet on the map and a few that weren't. He visited every bar, every roadhouse, every diner. To where there could be people, clues.

The Hunter had expected there to be stories, rumors and unease, but what he hadn't expected was the reaction. Whenever a story was related to him he saw laughter. Every campfire tale and legend and anecdote, was related with humor, no matter how gruesome the subject matter. He could tell they were laughing it off. He didn't blame them, he knew he would too. If he didn't know better he would see it on the surface it was ridiculous.

But he began to notice something else. Every bit of laughter had a subtle undercurrent of nervousness in it. Despite how wide their smiles got their eyes betrayed their innate fear. It was a visceral, primal fear. Something that couldn't be denied, yet they tried and tried. They turned away from the horror. They couldn't cope.

He wondered how he coped sometimes.

The Hunter decided to not disguise himself. He knew he couldn't pass as a reporter or other curious outsider, and in his mind it felt vaguely dishonest. He would just be a rubbernecking local, swapping stories and rumors like the rest of them.

It took a while, at first it was vague. _Yeah I heard some tourist went missing around here. Dumb city folk probably got lost they'll find them soon enough. He got hit by a car, that's what I read in the paper. It was just a silly story my friend's cousin told me _Then came more substantial news. He took every newspaper he could get, he learned to be patient and extract information slowly.

His police radio was good, and he knew cops could be as gossipy as old hairdressers to each other, but were tight-lipped with civilians. He found a gold mine in the lonely old men who always seemed to sit on the porches in front of general stores. At a gun store in Poho he was able to talk for hours with patrons, always steering the conversation to the rumors and murders. He saw a lot of people there that day; the gunsmith did a roaring trade. He picked up some extra ammo.

At first he thought he could sleep in the cab of his truck, enjoy the stars, like he did when he was a kid, but the situation made him uneasy. After one night with the constellations he checked into a motel. This did little to relieve his unease, they were mostly horrible ratty places, the kind of place you expect to be run by Norman Bates. Motel 8 was the closest he could get to comfortable. But then again he didn't really expect to be comfortable on this expedition.

He wandered like a gypsy, marking every incident, (no matter how insubstantial it seemed) he heard of or came across on his map. Poho, Perwilla, Kisle, Bannon, Shiloh, Lincoln, Big Rock, Wheaton, he followed the gory trail of murder across the counties.

He could start to see a pattern somewhat on the map. He wondered why no one else saw it, until he remembered the denial and fear in people's eyes.

He was lounging on his motel bed, falling into the big valley in the center. He was about to drift off, having finished watching the news report, when a sudden noise made him jump.

He was about halfway off his bed with his peacemaker in his hand before he realized it was just his police radio crackling to life. He sighed and nearly turned it off, then heard one thing that caught his attention.

"Yeah we got some rig-jockey that hurt himself pretty bad down that side spur road off the nine, you know towards Sheldon? He's still a couple miles outside the town though, we need a bus out there pronto."

He flipped the machine off.

It wasn't until the next day he realized that it was important.

The story had spread quickly over the trucking community.. He quickly began stopping at bars and restaurants that were on main trucking routes. He was greeted by grim faces and grimmer news.

"Snakeskin" as he was known on the CB network had just finished fueling up and was heading down the Nine, having just come from Spur Road. The company who hired him was still "investigating" the GPS records of his truck but it was rumored that he had suddenly turned around back to The Spur for some unknown reason.

Then there was voice.

"The Voice?" He asked, forgetting his decision not to appear eager.

The trucker in the red cap eyed him warily, and then frowned into his coffee mug. The Hunter signaled a waitress and quickly paid for it. The trucker took a long slow sip. He couldn't help but look anxious as he waited him to finish.

"They say after Snakskin turnin' hisself around there was voice askin' fer him on his CB. Said: 'Snakeskin? Where the hell are ya buddy?' no response, so he said. "Snakeskin, whaterya doin'? ' then they say they here clicking and static weird noises like that. Like someone was turnin' it on 'n' off. Then he asks for Snakeskin for a third time. Then the Voice came, they say it weren't Snakeskin's voice, but somethin' horrible like. Like no man no one's ever heard before." He took another sip.

The man was quietly agog, and let him continue.

"He said, 'Sorry, Snakeskin's been skinned!'"

He found the side spur to Sheldon pretty easy enough. The town was small, and he didn't bother going in it. He found what he needed on the highway.

The truck was still there, to his surprise, although roped off with yellow police tape. He figured it was they would haul it away for evidence soon. Predictably it was locked. He noticed dust on the car handle.

He was a fair tracker, his father having taught him on their many hunting trips. He let out a sigh in happy reminiscence, then focused on the task at hand.

The road was rough, mostly gravel and dirt, and the tracks were a few days old at any rate. He thought he could see the big rig's tires, then a second truck down the road_. A second truck?_ He thought. That's what it looked like, a second smaller truck.

"Damnit" he cursed, as he squatted down along the road. A lot of the tracks became blurred; the vehicle tracks were the clearest ones. Maybe there was footprints. Maybe. It was hard to tell.

He heard a crack, like a twig snapping. He quickly looked up, he saw nothing. The sides of the road were just plain dirt and buffalo grass. He poked around carefully. He could see some moved bushes and flattened down grass. Whether this was from an animal or a human or…something else, he couldn't tell.

The signs were unclear, and he was about to give up and go into town and start looking around there. When something caught his eye.

The road was more disturbed here he noted. It was scuffed, with gouge lines. As The Hunter studied at the churned up dirt, something caught the very corner of his eye. At first he thought it was a rock, but it was too black. Then he dismissed it as a piece of tire or other road trash. But the image kept nagging at his mind. He approached it cautiously. He had to study it for a second, then it registered in his mind: A shoe.

No exactly completely out of place. People lost or threw stuff out on the roads all the time. It still struck him as eerie. The shoe was lying on its side, its laces were loose but still tied. He picked it up the shoe gingerly with one finger.

He wished he had a pencil or a stick or something, that way he wouldn't sully the evidence. He shook his head_; you've been watching too many crime shows_. He told himself.

When he held it he was struck by how small it was. It almost fit inside his hand. It was a black sneaker, very worn.

Whatever was written on it was faded, but he was able to guess 61/2 maybe 7. The faded "**W"** told him it was a woman's shoe, but he could have guessed that much himself.

_Wait_. Something jarred him. The trucker wasn't a woman, and he had gotten his handle from the big snakeskin boots he wore, or so he gathered. The little sneaker just didn't fit.

He puzzled over the shoe, considering to write at off as road junk, but something made him keep it. He turned the shoe over again in his hands. He kept it.

He still didn't feel like sullying the shoe so he wrapped it carefully in old plastic and sat it in the passenger's seat, where he continued to stare at it.

It intrigued him, but a disturbing thought began to blossom in his head, something irritating and horrifying, he wanted solve the puzzle but couldn't, and wasn't sure he wanted to. The Hunter suddenly understood the mentality of the people who flatly denied what he knew was true. He had been raised with the truth, touched the evidence with his own hands. As a result he began to look with contempt with those who deliberately kept themselves blind.

Now a part of him might be groping towards a deeper truth and his mind shied away form it like a nervous horse. He glanced back uneasily; the tiny little shoe frightened him.

Out of nowhere he felt tired. Very tired. The crappy diner food and the crappier motel rooms were taking its toll. He suddenly wanted to go home. He pulled out his map. All along the Nine were little red X's. These were murders or disappearances that he heard about. It didn't look to be near his farm thank God; otherwise he would have called his mother immediately.

He thought he could make it home. He would rest, eat a decent meal, and ask his mother about the first brake that he thought he found.

The Hunter headed home.

----------------------------------------

Ah how appropriate to post today, the Day of the Dead. Yesterday, Halloween, marked the two year anniversary of my love for Jeepers Creepers. How I feel old. I came home after a long hard night of taking my cousins trick-or-treating. I come home, flop on my bed, and who do I find on TV? Yes our buddy the Creeper.

See I knew of the movies before, they came out a few years earlier, but I hadn't paid much attention to them. That Halloween night was the first time I watched one of the movies, I sat shivering with anticipation on my bed watching this wicked awesome monster sniffing around a stranded school bus. I couldn't stop thinking about it. The next day I went on to and looked for some stories, the rest is history.

Suffice to say I'm glad I watched that movie two years ago. I've made wonderful freaky friends from the JC fan community.


	23. Chapter 23

Torture

Sometimes I can't recall specific details, but I guess this is to be expected, a human mind can't handle too much trauma, memories must fade, and things are forgotten or blacked out. The mind closes in on itself, like a wound.

But there are somethings I can never forget.

I woke up on the cold hard cement floor of the basement. I was in terrible pain, nothing I had ever felt before. I realized how lucky had been before my kidnapping; my life was warm and sheltered compared to this. Naturally I cried.

I didn't want to be there obviously, but it hurt so much to move, especially my legs. I crumpled at the first stab of pain.

Unfortunately I wasn't the only one in the school basement.

I felt the tremendously strong pull on my legs. I was dragged back screaming hysterically, like in a horror movie. Instinctively I tried to grab onto the cold, smooth concrete floor, all this ensured was my newly-healed fingernails were ripped open again.

He was on me, over me. I threw up my hands instinctively, crying in fear. I could hear the familiar sniffing noises. Surely he would realize I was hurting, in pain, wouldn't he have mercy on me now?

Of course not_._ I don't remember anything else. Too painful

I remember I was bound with my arms behind my back. My wrists and ankles had been tied with a strip of leather. I could barely move.

Chains

I woke up suddenly; the uncomfortable white light of an oxyacetylene torch had penetrated through my eyelids. I was still lying on the cold uncomfortable concrete floor. I twisted my body around as best I could.

The light hurt my eyes so I didn't look at it directly. I could see the Creeper, wearing what looked like a crude welders mask. The flame sparked over some kind of metal. I could not see exactly what it was. I squirmed away from the bright uncomfortable light.

I could feel one of my hip bones jutting painfully into the floor. My stomach was squished too. I rolled over on one side moving accidentally towards the Creeper, I tried rolling awkwardly back and ended up rocking onto my back.

My bound hands were behind me, jutting into the small of my back, which was not at all comfortable. My nose was runny from crying and now it was all dripping backwards into my sinuses. With a grunt and another twist I was no facing away from the monster and whatever perverse project he was working on

The eerie uncomfortable light lit a corpse only half a foot away from my face, I inched back. I saw the ankles of a man, one foot was missing. The other had yellowed nails. The flesh around them had shrunk back somewhat, making them look like talons. A Zombie foot.

I closed my eyes.

_Why does this have to happen to me?_

I shut my mind to those kind of thoughts, they are no use, they only drive me deeper into despair. They are absolutely pointless, crying uselessly over you're fate only distracts and weakens you. And I needed all the strength I could get.

Pain still crashed in waves over my body, and my shifting position did not help. I wiggled again to relieve pressure on my hip bone. It hurt, humiliation was seared into my bones. He treated me so badly. I felt like trash.

Even in the worst of his lusts, his frenzies, he never did anything like this, he was angry, and I knew this brutal treatment was very deliberate.

I didn't fall asleep per se, but I did kind of blank out for a while. My mind wasn't open to anything, I blocked out the monster, the dead, my own pain, and for a while it was okay. It couldn't last though; I knew eventually he would turn his attentions back to me.

After a while there was a hiss and a rush of steam, I managed to turn around, he was dunking long pieces of metal into a nearby bucket of water. I watched warily and curiously over my shoulder.

He noticed me watching. He grinned, but there was more maliciousness in his smile then usual, if you can imagine such a thing. I immediately turned my head back, tried to hide. It didn't work; he cut the strips of leather holding my wrists and ankles and pulled me up to a sitting position. I remained quiet and still on the floor.

He dangled the pieces of metal in front of me. Through the darkness I could see that they were chains. He grinned his cold smile. He dangled them directly in front of my face. When I made no response he merely grinned wider and shook them again, making a clanking noise.

I could see through my misery that he held not one, but several chains in his hands. He shook them once again. An obscene realization entered my head. _He wants me to choose?!_ He was holding the different chains up for my discretion. Ladies choice.

I made no attempt to humor him in his cruel games. I would not dignify his torture with a response, but ultimately the results were ultimately the same, he snapped a pair of chains onto my legs.

They held my feet together, not directly together, maybe about a half a foot apart. This was the farthest I could stretch them (I couldn't stretch them for a while though; it hurt way too much to spread them apart, or even to move much at all.) I could only hobble along, not walk. Later I would learn that these chains were called hobbles, designed for animals, refitted especially for me.

I could barely walk in these, let alone run. He kept these on for a long time.

Cold

I remember it being very cold.

For a while I did not notice. I was far too distracted to see anything in front of me. I was far too absorbed in my own thoughts to notice trivial things like cold or my own comfort. I don't even remember seeing any victims down there, except the ones already stuffed and mounted on the walls. Looking back it seems impossible, he must have brought people down there, and they must have screamed or cried or done something to gain my attention, but I simply don't remember anything like that. Possibly he killed them before bring them here, a small and rare kindness he might have granted me in those days. I can't say for certain for I simply I do not remember.

I don't know how long I was like this. For a long time there is only blank agony and oddly disconnected memories. I was absorbed in my own thoughts, or was simply not thinking at all, if such a thing is possible. I was turning the escape over in my mind again and again, agonizing over it. I had thought about what I could do differently, and despite my promise to myself I had asked over and over again that uselessly terrible question: _why?_ Why did this have to happen to me? At other times I saw my past memories and images of my family, but I saw these things through a distorted lens, as if these things could not possibly have to do with my life. Then my thoughts would drift to the unspeakable in my belly and then wildly skitter around that subject like a nervous spider. In this dreamy, hazy manner did I drift through, what? Days? Weeks? Months? I had completely failed to notice something as blatant as the onset of winter.

To be fair I was not let out much after the escape attempt. I don't think I even went outside the building, except maybe to go to the bathroom. He must have brought my clothes and other necessities down here, or let me do it myself, but I was not allowed to go even to the upper levels with out him escorting me.

But why then did I not notice the bone chilling cold, the concrete under my feet that had felt like ice? I can remember shuffling and hobbling miserably throughout the dank basement, I remember the clink of chains and the slap of bare feet.

This is when I had the wherewithal to actually get up from my straw bed, which was rarely. Still, looking back at it, why didn't I at least notice the cold? For the next memory I can reliably place was a big shock.

I think he opened a cellar door; the cold winter light flooding in the basement had snapped me out of another dim haze. I got up from my straw bed and shuffled after him, my chains clinking with every step. I climbed gingerly up the steps, using both hands and feet, for I still tripped over my chains. When I reached the top step and stood erect and immediately gasped in surprise.

All around me was snow, great big piles of it. The BEATNGU sat in the white ocean, looking like it sank up to it's tires. Uneven hills of it had been created by the wind, although every inch of the ground was still blanketed by it. All the trees were leafless, looking like skeletal hands thrust to the grey cloudy sky. In the distant horizon where I thought I would see was dirt and tall dry grass was just more white sea.

Stomping through the white snow in front of me was the dark monster, looking oddly out of place indeed.

Yet despite the grim desolateness winter always brings I did not find myself depressed by it. Each feature, like the dead-looking trees, by itself seemed horrible, but combined it seemed wonderful, almost magical. The childish word was on my lips _wonderland _but I did not speak it.

I had never seen snow in person before that. Of course I knew what it _was_, I had seen countless pictures, books, movies, but it does not snow where I come from, and my family wasn't well-to-do enough to go take a long trip to a place that did snow. Besides we preferred the sun, due to geography it was relatively simple and cheap to go to the beach, or more rarely, the warm Caribbean islands. Snow was a very novel, exotic thing for me at the time.

So maybe that explains why I cracked a grin and burst into near-hysterical giggles, I clambered up to the surface, (again using my hands as well otherwise I would have toppled over), I stood in the snow in my bare feet and really without thought flopped down on my back.

The snow was soft; it made crunching noises as I move on to it. I giggled, half-insane. I moved my arms up and down, maybe I could fly. The mad elation of my juvenile act was cut short when I tried to do the same thing with my legs, of course I could not. The brutal sudden jerking of my legs pulled me out of my silly day dream.

I staggered up from my half-formed snow angel, the Creeper was looking at me, giving me a wondering "what-the-hell-are-you-doing?" look.

I felt a bit abashed but I continue trudging away from the school. He plows through the snow to his truck.

The cold is really starting to get to me. The sudden shock or realization that it was snowing seemed to wake me up to the fact it was cold. I start shivering for the first time. I have no shoes or socks, my body heat is starting to melt the snow on me, making wet_ and_ cold.

Still I continue onward enjoying the novelty of snow, of being out of the dank, gloomy basement for the first time in an eternity. I was approaching, not quite there mind you, the very threshold of being pleased.

The Creeper was frowning, prodding the tires with his toes, I wonder if he too has never seen snow in person. The cold doesn't seem to bother him, he is also barefoot, and I can see his odd looking tracks in the snow. I wonder some more, pondering what people who saw these tracks would think. I would later understand how much I risked to frostbite; although I was physically uncomfortable I often lost myself in my own head during those horrible days. I had to in order to avoid pain, unfortunately it often made me oblivious to the danger I often was to myself.

My footprints are next to his, small and blue in the snow. I'm so small, I suddenly feel weak, no point, how stupid and futile it was run away…

I shake my head snapping myself out of my trance, it's almost impossible to walk, my feet are completely numb, the cold metal chains stick to my bare skin. I hobble around, and then have to rest at a hip-high snow drift only a few feet away. I put my hands on it. I feel the cold. I use the sensation to realize that I'm still alive, that this is all real.

The Creeper has his back to me now; he's bending over, and fiddling with something I don't care about. My fingers dig deeper into the snow drift, feeling the snow compress deliciously in my bare hands. I have another very childish urge. I can make snow balls, packed tight, maybe with ice, maybe with rocks. I can throw them, like I've seen a thousand times in pictures, books and movies. I imagine them striking the hated BEATNGU, I imagine with giggling raving hysteria and dark black rage. I can see in my minds' eye the snowballs striking the monster then him jumping up with sudden indignity as they strike his ass. My hands tighten into fists but a sudden wave of fear and reason springs up_. No._

This is stupid, it is stupid and childish and will accomplish absolutely nothing. I doubt he's in a tolerant mood. I unclench my hands and let the snow run through them. I suppress my anger so quickly and powerfully I shudder and gulp. I look for a second on the Creeper, then I drift away.

The cold is really getting to me, I shiver and rub my skin, press my numb lips together. One difficult step at a time, it's hard to walk in these chains, let alone run. _I guess that's the point._

I can see only a little past the school yard. I cannot see the dirt road at all. I suddenly feel very isolated; maybe the rest of the world doesn't exist anymore. Just me and him, or maybe the rest of the world is asleep.

Very suddenly I think of my family, although they're not my family anymore because Maria Adams does not exists anymore; in her place is this strange sad creature. I wonder what they're doing now, if they even know I'm gone.

He found me later huddled in the snow, shivering badly, small and blue. I can remember a little of his expression, shocked maybe, upset? I cannot tell, he takes me back inside and I go very willingly. He keeps an eye on me. Later when I wander too close to the bulkhead one day he grabs me with shocking speed, and I understand suddenly how distressed he was at the idea of me wandering away, with or without chains.

Knife

I don't remember when this event happened exactly, since after the escape attempt I had trouble putting events in order in my memories, or even remembering at all. But I think this took place very near the time I first saw snow. This is because I remember it being cold.

The chains were really bothering me. I had snapped out of my fog, somewhat. I began to notice things that bothered me more. It was hard to wear socks and almost impossible to wear boots with the hobble around my ankles, so unless I buried them in my straw bed they were almost always cold.

I felt a dull resentment against the chains, a resentment that sharpened every day. I fell back into my old habit of picking at myself. I tugged against them, rubbed my skin raw, and scratched myself in frustration.

I wore thick wool socks; sometimes I tried to wear boots, since I only had one tennis shoe now. (Where did I get boots? I cannot not remember now, no matter how hard I try.) I was cold and uncomfortable; I could rarely go up to the upper levels with its warm stoves. No matter how many looks of pleading or anger I threw at him he did not remove the chains unless he was right there with me, _and_ if he was feeling magnanimous.

My stuff was down there, all my bags and clothes, although I could not remember how they got down there, I was looking for something. What that something was is now also long forgotten, but my fingers brushed the bottom of my bag, then they brushed against my Swiss army knife.

My eyes widened I jumped as if shocked.

_Stupid, stupid._ I had forgotten about it. Again. I clutched it tightly, and then rapidly hid it in my shirt, just in case. I looked around furtively, but I did not see him, however I could hear him stomping around upstairs.

I lay there, curled and motionless. I felt that wild, foolish dangerous hope. The almost suffocating optimism that I haven't felt since the idea of stealing the truck came to me. _Careful_, I told myself and reined the feeling in. I couldn't do anything stupid again.

When I was sure he would be a way for a while (he checked my chains and locked both doors) I tool out the knife and began opening it. It takes a while, this model has almost everything. My cold fingers fumble with all the various mechanisms in the knife. I nearly drop it cursing.

A sudden unexpected noise makes me plunge it into straw. I sit there, trembling, when I hear nothing further I continue onward. When I finally have all the various knives open I study each one, trying to gauge their usefulness. I immediately put some away.

Even at its weakest point the chain cannot be sawed through, I try prying one link apart with a knife, but it's welded too securely. I shake the hobble violently in frustration, but it doesn't budge from it attachment to my ankles. I'm about to give up, then I notice something promising.

I see a screw in the shackle on my left ankle, and I have a screw driver. But my screwdriver is too small so I take the flat of a big blade and jam it into the screw, _twist damn it_. The screw moves maybe 45 degrees, slightly promising. I try and jam in again, it slips and slices a jagged line across my skin.

I begin to fear that it's all welded together too firmly but I can't just give up. Even if escape looks so nearly impossible I can't just give up. I just can't.

However my initial attempt had to be aborted The Creeper came "home". I plunge the Swiss Army Knife deep into the straw of my bed.

Knife Fight

In my eagerness I had grown careless. Maybe it was something in my demeanor, instead

of downtrodden and defeated I was more alert, and a little hopeful. I saw, or I thought I saw, the Creeper give me a suspicious lizard eye when he was at his work table. He eyed me coldly and calculatingly when he thought I wasn't looking.

He seemed to find excuses to keep a close watch on me and it nearly drove me mad waiting for him, but I knew I could outwait him. He had to eat sometime.

Finally when he left the cellar and I heard his car drive away I immediately got to work. I dug around for the knife, for one heart wrenching moment I thought it was gone, but then I found the hard lump near the floor.

With eager fumbling fingers I pulled out the biggest knife and began working on the screw that on the left shackle. It resisted me.

At this little bit of hard luck I burst into wild tears. I had no control over my emotions and reacted disproportionately and inappropriately to everything. I didn't even know if this screw was even important, even if I successfully removed it nothing could happen.

I fought to control myself and not resisted the urge to just lay down and go to sleep and drift off into blank misery again. In the dim light I though I could see scorch marks and melting around the edges, maybe it had been welded, but maybe he just passed over it. A tiny little mistake I could use to my advantage.

I twisted the knife into again, and again. It moved slowly, I gritted my teeth and gave it a final twist. It stuck out maybe a quarter of an inch.

An idea came to me; perhaps it would be easier with just my fingers. I don't have a lot of room to grab but I pinch around the screw twisting delicately. Slowly it eases out!

I was so absorbed in what I was doing, and feeling more and more optimistic that I was actual going to accomplish this. I don't know how much how much time had passed, or what pulled me out of this state. Possibly it was a strange sound that caught my attention, or maybe a continually growing feeling of unease. Whatever it was, on a hunch I looked over my shoulder.

He looked almost like a perfectly carved statue. He didn't move or react on bit to what I was doing. I of course reacted plenty. My mouth opened, I could feel the blood drain from my face, I started to have trouble breathing, however I had the presence of mind to quickly shove the knife back into the hay. I looked down, feeling once again irrationally ashamed, then glanced at his face. A slow amused smile spread across his originally expressionless face, as if he couldn't resist at the expression on my face. I looked down again, I saw his boots stomping towards me. I prayed silently and passionately that he wouldn't notice the loose screw, or that he wouldn't search the bed.

He grabbed me underneath my armpits and hauled me up to face level. My feet dangled off my straw bed and unconsciously I pressed down, trying to flatten the hay. His eyes were so wide, I could see the whites against the dark grey of his skin. I feel the familiar fear of Darius' eyes return. He starts to inhale rapidly.

I could hide the work on the hobble, I could maybe even hide the knife, but I couldn't hide the expression of guilt on my face. Does he even understand human emotions? If he can't he still makes a pretty good guess. He sets me down again and impatiently brushes aside the hem of my skirt. I know he sees the screw. He immediately begins to tearing apart the hay. I know I have only second before he finds it.

Acting swiftly, I bury the arm he's not holding into the straw, I have the advantage as I know where the knife is. He is very quick, but I manage to give him a shallow stab in the abdomen. I can feel the solidness of his abdominal muscles against my knife. He backs away, somehow I manage to get to my feel rapidly, despite my heavy stomach and chains. The knife is clearly visible in my hand. We have a standoff.

_Stupid, stupid_, is the word running through my head. I should have just gave up, surrendered and hope he wouldn't do anything bad, but I've woken up. All my anger and humiliation at how's he's treated me is coming back, and in this state I feel strong enough to defeat a thousand Creepers.

His eyes flick to the knife and then to my face. The knife seems so small now, but my anger blacks out my fear. I see him edge forward. I brandish the knife.

"Stay. Back." I say though gritted teeth. My voice was a little shaky, but there was iron determination in it. He doesn't comply with the order. I wield the knife and scream, I must look insane, I can feel spittle fly from my mouth and my eyes bulge out. "Stay the fuck back, I'll fucking kill you!" I scream nonsensically but still he rushed towards me. I can feel every cell quiver with energy.

In two bounds he was close enough to me, I began slashing wildly and he took most of it on his hands. Swiss army knives are versatile, but they're not very sharp. I barely scratched him. When I aimed for his face he skillfully shoved my arm aside with his left hand. It threw me off balance and now he was almost behind me.

I knew that I would be at a disadvantage if I tried to turn back around so I used the moment to swing a full circle and try to stab him again_. Yes!_ I thought triumphantly as I thought I saw an exposed throat, however he was just way too fast and he swept my arm aside again, but instead of away he swept it downward. I thought maybe I could get him in the hip, but before I could even try he swept my arm again, but up to his shoulder. When I thought a third opportunity to stab him had presented itself he expertly clamped on to my arm, pulling it under his armpit. I was totally trapped and had no way to swing my knife.

It had all happened in maybe less than five seconds. I looked up in disbelief at his face. He smiled, I realized he was just toying with me. I was nothing compared to him, he was an expert at fighting.

He puts pressure on the underside of my elbow, it hurts and badly and my hand drops the knife. But I also drop it with a realization that there's absolutely no point in fighting now.

He bends down quickly and picks up the knife, looking at it with bright interest. I suddenly, in my anger and frustration and helplessness do something very foolish. "Keep it!" I spit out and turn around, unwisely leaving behind the knife, a gift from my favorite brother, behind.

I decide to leave. Before he could stop me, I scurried up the stairs, using all four limbs. He came to get me not much later; he won't leave me alone for long anymore. However I could go up into my old room, some of my stuff was there, as well as my old bed. I now feel almost nostalgic about it. I lay in the straw quietly for a while.

**Anger is what it's called, but rarely do I feel anything for that long, there's always new problems. When the problem is solved it's gone, nothing to worry about. The Breeder is restrained and best of all she's quiet. The damage is repaired. Now things can go back to normal.**

**What is occasionally irritating is the noises she makes. They can range to puzzling screaming (when absolutely nothing is hurting her) to long drawn out moans and sobs, to hurling angry words at me. Generally I ignore all of these, although once I did gag her.**

**For a long time she spent most of the day sleeping excessively or staring at nothing. Now sometimes she glares at me with big dark eyes, maybe when she dies I will give her that expression.**

**She is so odd. She can burst into wild unpredictable rage after many days of emotionless lethargy. I thought she would be better behaved after the failure of her foolish escape attempt, and she was-for a while. Now she had the audacity to physically attack me. Needless to say she was largely unsuccessful.**

**Even more oddly, she gave me the weapon she was attacking me with. Like most human behavior it's incomprehensible, perhaps it's a cultural adaptation; gift giving for conflict resolution. If so, her culture wouldn't be the first to utilize such an idea.**

**After the fight she ran away, possibly to avoid more conflict, but I will go and fetch her shortly, I cannot allow her to be alone for too long.**

**When I first found this breeder I didn't think her exceptionally clever, nor did I find her exceptionally unintelligent. The most surprising thing about her was how resistant she was to me. Usually after mating and conception they accept me to one degree or another. She almost always fights, even at her most passive her muscles and bones stiffen in resistance, and while at first she didn't strike me as unusually bright, her stubbornness has proved to be a problem. She can find the one detail I've neglected: an unlocked door, the BEATNGU whose keys weren't removed, an improperly welded screw.**

**This makes me, and keeps me anxious.**

**It's only through constant vigilance that she hasn't succeeded again, watching, waiting for her to try and escape again. I must stay with her more, and hunt less. I do need less food than before but it is still a problem. Irritation colors the air around us, and it keeps perpetuating itself. I find it disconcerting, an emotion that will not go away.**

**Still it is only a shadow of the anger I felt when she almost succeeded in escaping. How good it felt to have her in my possession again! How angry I was at her for her brazen, audacious attempt! The violent mating that happened immediately afterward contained as much anger as lust, which is rare. It's not wise to treat a breeder as such, especially a pregnant one. Still I admit it felt good, as if I was reclaiming her, saying **_**mine, mine, mine**_** with each stab in-between her legs. I wanted to wash away the human world stink that clung (however faintly) on her and tattoo my very scent into her skin.**


	24. Chapter 24

The Family

He found the phone annoying, but he had an excuse not to answer and turn it off: He was at work.

He took a kind of mindless pleasure in his work. The engineering firm he worked for paid well, and helped out with the necessary schooling that he needed for advancement. His bosses were okay, and the few people who worked underneath him were reliable and competent. Sure he was a desk jockey and a cubicle drone but he had the potential to become much more. All he needed was another degree…or two. Plus more experience, but that was okay, he was young, he had time, in fact he was slacking off a bit, enjoying his life before work consumed. He thought of the classes he would have take, how many more years he would need…the young man let his mind wander. It wandered so much he didn't notice his silenced phone, which blinked and flashed constantly. The tiny word "Home" indicated who was frantically calling him.

--------------------------

After work a pretty female co-worker invited him to dinner, and then the couple compulsively caught a movie. They had done this a few times so she was more than just a friend, although not quite a girlfriend. They chatted and laughed happily on the way home. He drove her down the smoothly paved highway and walked her fearlessly through the brightly-lit city streets.

He was still smiling slightly as he entered his apartment. It was small, but comfortable, messy in the way that clearly indicated a bachelor lived here.

His smile faded slightly as he thought of the movie, he didn't think it all that great. It was predictable enough, all about the atrophy and ennui of modern city life. A little boring and depressing actually. Thinking of his not-quite-girlfriend brought back some of his mood but he was feeling a little grim as he flipped through one-hundred channels, all with nothing on.

He was starting to feel hungry again, and considered chicken noodle soup, the height of his culinary skills. As he wandered into his tiny kitchen he caught sight of his answering machine, which was flashing its rapid red color. Odd. Thinking it might be his coworker he checked it, and gasped at the number of messages.

His father's voice immediately blared out. The young man twisted his mouth slightly, his father…his dark thoughts trailed off, then were pushed aside when he actually registered the words, and the tone. Frantic, his father was never frantic.

"Where the hell are you?" He heard a voice in the back ground, probably his little brother's, and then his father said something in response, "oh work, ok just call me as soon as possible!"

The messages on his machine were all in the same vein, except growing more frantic and angry as they went on.

He quickly groped around for his cell phone, where the hell did he put it? Oh yeah the table near the door, he walked quickly over to it, stubbing his toe and cursing along the way.

33 MISSED CALLS the phone glared silently at him. He quickly scanned through calls from his father, his little brother, even from his grandmother. Bizarre. He listened to the first one, from his father. It was more of the same, except he was positively frothing over the fact that his son hadn't picked up his cell phone yet.

He wondered what everything was about. He felt a tiny pit of fear in the bottom his stomach. He flipped open the phone and called his father. He wandered into his bedroom. The muted television cast an eerie green glow over the room. Tiny droplets of water formed on the frosty fogged up windowpane. The city lights twinkled at him, somehow both cold and comforting at the same time.

_Pick up, c'mon pick up_. He ordered his family silently. The rings purred on, at about the seventh one someone swiftly picked up the receiver and snapped out "Hello?!" very quickly.

"It's me," the young man said, he recognized his father's voice, though not the frantic not in it.

An almost imperceptible groan came back over the line, as if he was disappointed it was him.

_Why'd you call me so damn much then?_ He thought with a brief burst of annoyance, but his father's odd question pushed the irritation aside.

"You-you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?" he asked anxiously.

"No." he said slowly, he scanned his memory quickly, no he hadn't heard from his sister.

There was a pregnant pause; he heard a voice in the background. "Who is it?!" it demanded, "Your brother," was the response.

"What's this all -?" You're sister's missing" his father blurted.

There was a small dense silence. A thousand things ran through his mind_, What?! No way. He's lying, why would lie? What could have-? Who could have-? What happened? Oh My God, wha- why? _His mind ran frantically then sputtered into shock.

His younger brother seemed to be saying something; he could hear the anger, even if he couldn't understand the words. His father yelled back.

Still struggling to comprehend he fumbled about for a response. "Dad? A-are you sure?"

His father turned back to him, "Nobody's seen your sister for weeks." The news penetrated his brain. "Oh God, Andrea?" he asked, he knew a girl moving to NYC alone was a bad idea, he knew-

"No," his father's voice nearly broke, "your younger sister Maria."

A second shock, almost big as the first nearly overcame. No not Maria, not his baby sister. She was safe wasn't she? How could she be missing? She was living in a nice little college cow town.

Wasn't she?

His younger brother was yelling, screaming something, his father was arguing back. The pit in his stomach grew a bigger.

"Dad," he began again, then put a little more firmness in his voice. "Dad I'm coming over right now. "

"Yeah," he said distractedly. The young man began struggling to put on his coat one handedly." Alright," he answered back. "Bye, I-I love you, dad." He said awkwardly. He had never ended a phone conversation with his father this way.

"I love you too." He said dully and distractedly. The young man began to shut his phone. "Oh and Miguel?" his father asked

"Yes?"

"Make it quick.

--------------------------

"Shit, shit." He cursed to himself. He was so distracted he nearly ran out of gas on the highway. He got out of the car and cursed the time wasted. The night was cold; the gas station was desolate looking. He turned up his collar.

On the road he put the cruise control on and stewed endlessly. _Oh God what could have happened? Where is she, where could she be? How did this happen, how __**could**__ this happen? _He wasn't as naïve as other people could be; their family wasn't immune to tragedy and pain. Their mother-his and Maria's mother-_oh God poor mom. If she were alive she'd be going crazy._ After his mom he didn't assume that nothing bad could happen to him or his loved ones. Yet it was still a shock. It jolted him out of his nice blandly comfortable life. _How could this happen, what happened to her…?_

He was almost surprised when he pulled up to his house, he was barely concentrated on driving. A mixture of dread and happier memories flooded him at the sight of his old house.

It was an odd looking one, tall and narrow, wedged in next to the other tall and narrow houses of their neighborhood. His family home was near the center of a large city. Tiny yard, narrow sidewalks, a slightly weathered look. They were blue collar, money could be tight but they weren't really poor. Maria worked hard, saved up enough money for an okay car and part of a college education (the rest was loans and scholarship), all for what?

He walked up the stone steps and started fumbling with the door, his father pulled it open suddenly.

Miguel Adams did not cry, or fall into his father's arms, even though both scenarios definitely ran through his head. He merely followed him quietly into the house.

It always seemed smaller every time he visited, which was happening less and less. It seemed emptier too, with mom gone, and most of his siblings. _Maria had just left_; he cut off the thought again. Tears threatened.

His father's eyes were dry, although he noticed a slight wobble in his gait.

He saw his younger brother sitting next to the kitchen tale. His eyes were red, but he wasn't crying. He was cleaning his glasses on the edge of his shirt.

There was a moment of awkward silence. His younger brother, Alberto, broke it quickly. "Maria's gone missing, I'm going to go find her-" His father sputtered on his drink. Miguel could smell whiskey.

Alberto glared at their father. Their father glared back. "You're not going and that's final"

His younger brother smacked his palm against the table in rage. "I wouldn't _have _to go if you would just do your job-" "You know why I can't be going-" "If you would just act like a father _should_ act once in a while!-" Miguel knew they had been arguing off and on all night, possibly all yesterday too. Possibly since they were sure Maria was missing. He cut off their arguing swiftly.

"Alright, alright!" he interrupted. "Where was she last seen?"

"Pertwilla." His brother answered immediately, "a small rural town-slash- county it's in the next state over." Their father drowned down another swallow.

Miguel took a deep breath, "okay, any-," he shrugged helplessly "any evidence, or anything?" His brother rolled his eyes and lifted a folder from the table. "We've filed a missing persons report, the cops say they're on the look out for her, but who knows how competent they are?" he rolled his eyes again. Their father said nothing.

"The only thing, I mean the one of the few things we have is what she filed." He pulled out a sheet of paper and scanned it. Miguel could see that it was crumpled and smeared with fingerprints, as if someone had been reading it obsessively.

"According to this she filed a police report, claiming that a guy pulled a gun on her and her car was stolen." He set the paper down and gazed at his brother in disbelief. "She never even told us this."

"She did call me, remember?" Their father interjected quietly "But she said her car broke down, not that someone stole it, she asked me for bus money, or repair money, something like that." He fiddled with his Wild Turkey bottle despondently.

"And you sent it to her," Alberto said gently, almost apologetically. Their father mumbled something but Miguel did not catch it.

His younger brother returned to the subject, "We talked to some cop who called himself Binns, said he took her report on her supposed carjacking." Alberto pulled out a handwritten note. "He told us that Maria was missing, apparently she was staying at some lady's house-"

"Wait, wait, slow down." Miguel interrupted "who do we know out there?"

Alberto and their father exchanged a glance, "No one," their father, "this lady, this-" he glanced at his younger son, "Elsa Daniels" the boy provided "Elsa Daniels," he repeated, "None of us knew this Elsa Daniels lady, we all wracked our brains but," he shrugged "as far as we know none of us had any connection to her in any way."

Miguel quickly searched his memory again did the name Elsa Daniels sound familiar? No, he decided after a moment.

Alberto knew what he was thinking, he always seemed to know. "Did you know her?" he asked. "No," Miguel answered despondently.

"So she stays at this stranger's house, why?" Miguel demanded.

"We don't know why yet." Alberto asked. "Although we know she probably didn't have a car, either 'cause it was stolen or broken down…"

"So why not stay at a hotel?" their father demanded belligerently, "why stay with a stranger? She knows better than this, _she knows_," he sounded angry, almost petulant. Mad that his daughter didn't act the way he expected her too. Mad that she was _missing._

"Maybe Pertwilla didn't have a hotel, or even a motel." Alberto suggested. "Should she have slept on the street?" Miguel could hear irritation in his voice, he felt the same, how could their father act this way?

_Yet_, he did have a point, the Maria he knew would never stay in the house of complete stranger, or even enter one alone. She was far too cautious and careful. What had happened to her?

"She should have called us! She wasn't that far away, she could have…."

"Alright enough!" Miguel interrupted again. "She stayed at this lady's house, why don't we-"

"We can't talk to her," Alberto said, already anticipating his question. "She's in a coma." he said, looking bleak.

"What?!" Miguel asked in disbelief. Alberto pushed forward a small Polaroid picture of an elderly woman with that was just a mass of bruises and wounds. "She's in the Pertwilla county hospital. Binns said he'd call us if she ever woke up, but," he shrugged helplessly, "But she's old so who knows? She could die, she could never wake up, or she could and not remember anything." He looked miserable.

Miguel knew what he was feeling because he felt the same way. They suddenly had a possible lead, and just as suddenly it had been taken away. "How-?"

Once again Alberto was way ahead him. "Someone broke into her house, really broke in. According to Binns someone smashed her door open, ripped it off the hinges." Miguel felt a shot of disbelief. "They found her in her kitchen, apparently it had been a while after the attack, she was kind of isolated and lived alone. They took her to the hospital. No sign of Maria."

Miguel struggled to incorporate this new information. "Anything else?" he asked. There was silence at the table. "C'mon there has to be something! Fingerprints, blood or anything?!"

"Uh," Alberto stammered, "The police report did mention a hole in a window of the house, but that was it." He looked torn between hope and despair, "There was blood, but it was all Elsa Daniels', so that's good I guess." He looked encouragingly around the table, "She hasn't turned up in any morgues yet, so we can still hope." Miguel felt this was a slim hope. The mention of blood and morgues made them all miserable. He could see tears on the others' cheeks. He felt them streaming down his face as well.

"So she was kidnapped? Dragged off?" Miguel speculated.

"By who?!" their father demanded suddenly, he seemed to be in a rage. Miguel noticed his body was empty. He slurred his words. "Who did this, I'll-"

"We don't know," Alberto interrupted, "we don't know anything. There hasn't been any sign of her since then, they haven't even found her car." He added in misery.

Miguel looked around the table, "Could it have been the same guy, the carjacker?"

Their father looked disbelieving, "What kind of thief would leave her alone then come back to kidnap her?"

"Unless it wasn't just a thief, maybe it was a random psychopath." Alberto said darkly.

The previously unspoken idea, almost too unthinkable hovered silently around them. Miguel felt the worry in his stomach grow even bigger.

After a while Miguel spoke up again, "So what are we going to do about it?"

"Doing?! We're not doing anything?!" Alberto cried suddenly. He turned to his father and said with anger. "You have to let me go!" "No!" their father said. "Well then you go!" Alberto screamed back. Their father rubbed his eyes with his hands, "We've been over this-"

"God damn you!" Alberto screamed "Why listen to her!"?

"Because she knew!" their father roared back. "Because she somehow knew before we did, only when we suspected, and she's not letting me go for the same reason I won't let you. It's too dangerous,-"

"IT'S MARIA!" Alberto screamed again, "we're just supposed to sit here with our thumbs up our asses because-"

Shhhh!" their father ordered suddenly pointing to the floors above them "You'll wake her."

Miguel wanted to ask what they were talking about when suddenly their father suddenly broke down. They were both shocked; he had always been emotionally distant, even in a time like this, even throughout their worst tragedies. He sobbed into his hands.

"I'd go for her, I'd give up everything for her, for all of you." He looked around the table. Miguel couldn't suppress the lump in his throat. "She won't let me, she's been acting crazy, oh God why do I deserve this?" he demanded to know one in particular.

Suddenly he seemed broken; he hunched over the table and mumbled to himself. "This is my fault I know, why can't I get her? What can we do? This is all my fault I know…" Miguel found it impossible to be the slightest bit angry at him. Alberto buried his face in his hands.

He was utterly exhausted. He glanced at the clock. It was almost Two AM, much later than he thought. His emotions, and the emotions of those around him, left him feeling totally drained. The horrible new information in his head swirled around sluggishly, the pit in his stomach weighted him down.

"I'll do it." He said suddenly.

He plan to say this, but he did not regret it. He would go and look for Maria, but he wondered what, if anything, this would actually accomplish.

The crying abruptly stopped, although tears still ran the others' faces. Alberto blinked, "What?"

"I'll go look for her." His brother and father stared for a while.

"Don't let your grandmother know." Their father warned. Miguel was totally confused. Seeing this, Alberto jumped in. "She's been staying with us the past few days, living in the girls' old room. She's been acting crazy."

"Hmm we thought it was crazy," Their father retorted, "until we found out Maria had gone missing."

"She's been calling the cops, the FBI, everybody for weeks on end, talking about Maria. We thought she was insane, so she didn't call home for a while big deal. She got us in contact with the cop from Pertwilla, and then we found out the truth."

"She wanted to go herself, we tried to stop her and she went into this…frenzy. Hurt herself pretty bad. I was worried. I thought she had gone nuts. Now I regret it."

Alberto shook her head. "She's been freaking out, crying all the time, she won't let dad go, and dad won't let me go. She said we'll all die."

Miguel felt a chill.

Abruptly their father stood up. He knocked over his empty whiskey bottle, which smashed on the floor, he ignored it. "You can leave first thing in the morning." He sounded surprisingly clear headed, although still looked a bit wobbly. He squinted at the clock, "you two should go to bed."

Both brothers got up slowly. They tromped upstairs to the familiar room.

His old room had hardly changed, although everything in there was now Alberto's. Miguel cleared away some of the old clothes on the bottom bunk. His little brother climbed up to the top bunk. Just like old times.

They did not speak, it was completely dark in the room, a police siren wailed somewhere out there in the darkness.

Fun and Games

I'm watching him warily. He has a little smirk on his face, he glances at me from time to time, and each time the smirk grows wider. I sit on my bed of hay as if it were a bed of nails. I glare back.

After a while he finishes sharpening his last knife and tosses it down with the rest. He gives an exaggerated stretch and his smirk finally stretches into a grin. I can see the sadistic cruelty in his awful face; he is much harsher towards me since the escape. Before I could say no, sometimes. I could make demands and he would usually acquiesce. I could throw tantrums and he would tolerate it.

Now I must do exactly what he wants, and if I resist he merely forces me harder. I can barely leave the building anymore, (how pale I've become!), and I'm usually forced to stay in the room with him. Even my movements are circumscribed, I can only hobble around.

Even if my legs are restricted I can still refuse to go along with him. I push myself up off the bed with my hands and back away slowly. I move toward the stairs. He mimics my movements pulling his legs up and gripping his stool, but he does not move after me. The monster watches my retreat with lazy, sardonic eyes.

He allowed me to get onto the stairs, gave me that bit of foolish hope before pouncing. I immediately stood up and tried to throw him off. I succeeded in pushing him back but he was on me in a second. I grunted as I tried to throw him off again but he clamped on tightly, wrapping his arms around my belly, one hand resting on my breast. I could feel his growing erection against my thigh. I wondered for a moment if he would do it right here but he yanked me back. I could feel a sharp pain in my breast.

I struggled and he clutched me harder. I tried to force my way out of his arms but all I succeeded in doing was stumbling away toward the general direction he wanted me to go. He forced my body on top of my bed. I struggled ferociously and scattered the once neat pile of hay. It's even harder to fight with the hobble on but for some reason I don't submit. Despite everything I've been through I could feel the sense of outrage and injustice at this. The emotion rises in my throat like bile and emerges in the form of a stream of violent insane curses. I twist around like a snake, wildly trying to escape his grasp, however eventually he pins me. He straddles a leg over each side of me. My hands are on his face, futilely trying to push him away. He grabs my hands with ease and glanced down to give me a sharp look, warning me not to interfere with his pleasure. He lets go and begins stripping me.

Another bout of panic closes my throat, it'll be over in a few minutes, but what can I do? How far can I push him? He starts to run a hand slowly up my leg.

The idea comes to me suddenly; something half remembered from a self defense class I took in what it seems like a millennia ago. I put the plan into action with in a second. I wrap my legs around his right one, and my arm around his right arm. In another second, before he could realize what I was doing I punched him in the ribs, just below his armpit, and with every ounce of strength I hurl myself up and push him over. Caught off guard and unbalanced he rolls over, dragging me with him.

Now I'm the one on top, and I can see the stunned look on is face. My muscles hurt from the strain but I decided to take advantage of his surprise. I push my fists into his hard abdominal muscles and desperately push myself up off him. Even if I did get away what use would it be? I can't even run.

But before I could pull myself he grabs me with his legs, holding me with his scaly feet. There is still a look of surprise, and some sneaking delight on his face. I fight energetically, pushing away, digging my elbows into his thighs. To my surprise he doesn't throw me back onto the ground, using all four limbs he pushes me on top of him. His growing erection got tangled in my skirts.

I can see where this is going, which makes me struggle all the harder. You think it would be easier, with me on top, but he doesn't notice the blows I rain down on him, and I'm no match for his strength. He easily pushes me into whatever position he wants. One complication emerged with the chains. He tried spreading my legs over him but was stopped short by the hobble. _Ha!_ I thought, but he merely ripped the chains away, which was a jolt of nasty, unexpected pain, however I have to admit it was good to get my legs free.

With that I redoubled my efforts to get loose and run away, it was futile. He began to tear at my skirt, ruining my hope that I might preserve at least this piece of clothing. I don't know why he did this, he could have easily slipped under it, maybe it was done out of spite.

Holding my flailing arms against my body he lifted me up and tried to lower me down. I kicked wildly; he grabbed my legs and forced me to straddle him again. I tried punching again, even punching him in the testicles, he barely noticed.

He lifted me up and tried to lower me onto him. "No!" I managed to get out and bucked my pelvis forward. Both of our eyes widened in surprise, -and his with unexpected delight as he missed the mark entirely and slid smoothly between my ass cheeks.

He grinned wickedly and deliberately rubbed himself in between them vigorously. I screamed in horror as I felt the slimy wetness and was terrified he would force himself in. I gave another desperate lunge and he decided to stop fooling around. He grabbed me and held me with all four limbs and despite me resisting with all my strength, I was lowered and impaled, slowly, onto his rigid rod.

I wriggled my hips uselessly as he continued to force me downwards. He tried yanking my upper body towards him, as if I would drape myself over him. I immediately pushed away from him as far as I could, digging my fists in his abdomen. He let go of my hands suddenly and I was thrown back into his legs. He laughed.

I couldn't disentangle myself from him, despite being on top. I couldn't even try to get off of him, try to stop straddling him. Every time I tried to move some limb, or attempt to get off, he would grab me and continually pull me back down. It was like wrestling an octopus. My inner muscles began to squeeze him, he bucked his pelvis.

It was frightening and frankly, painful. I gasped and was unwillingly pushed forward. A stabbing pain shot up straight through me. I could feel my muscles painfully contract, the pain danced up my spine. The Creeper bucked his pelvis again, harder this time and I fell forward. To my even deeper horror I could feel…something inside of me shift, knocked about. Like my guts or something else were moving,. For a moment I flashed back to anatomy class, I wondered with worry what was shifting inside of me. Deep down I knew what it was of course but I didn't really want to think about it. I did however feel a slight tinge of pity for what was inside of me as the Creeper forced more of me on top of him. I felt his rock hard abdominals press up against my swollen belly. Whatever it was it would be squished for a while.

He began moving, up and down, thrusting, pushing himself further inside of me. I glanced as best I could over my shoulder I could see his weird taloned feet planted firmly and flat on the ground, helping to push his lower body up

_Relax,_ I told myself as I tightened my inner muscles in resistance; he merely pushed through anyway, causing more pain. I had learned the hard way that this only gave me more pain, and him more pleasure. I could hear him grunting and hissing with enjoyment. I tried to force my body to loosen up. My whole lower body was pushed upward repeatedly.

I groaned, mostly in pain but also in anguish. I was wretchedly uncomfortable. _Stupid Creeper. _If I tried to shift, myself, try to make myself comfortable, he immediately grabbed and held me down. His hands brushed lightly against my back, and came to rest on my butt.

He groped me, squeezing tender flesh. He lifted me up and down in movement to his body. A horrible sickening feeling of powerlessness came over me. I was a doll, a toy, we weren't having sex, he was using me as his plaything.

He groaned, more loudly this time, and growled in my ear. He licked away my sweat, continued to rub his hands over me, inserted a finger were it didn't belong.

I squealed indignantly and squirmed away as best I could. He merely laughed.

_Just ignore this_ I told myself through gritted teeth. I tried to practice my well honed skill of detachment, trying to leave my body, to ignore all of this. _I'm not here_; a sudden harsh thrust knocked me back into reality. I closed my eyes and felt tears. I'm somewhere else. I tried my favorite place, the beach. His hands roamed everywhere.

I don't know how long it was exactly but I finally sensed the thrusting and bucking had stopped, as well as the groaning in my ear. I opened my eyes reluctantly, I pried my hands off his brawny shoulders, he grinned his awful grin up at me.

_Sometimes he does it more than once_, I reminded myself. I'll think he'll be done but he'll keep himself in me, rest for a few minutes then start again. I can see now he's giving me a look mixed with calculation and disappointment. I didn't come for him, and he was looking to rectify that.

With a speed that surprised even me I managed to climb off him and get halfway up the stairs before he managed to scramble up after me. I made it up the steps, I knew the front door would be locked-he didn't make the same mistake twice- but before I could decide what to do he was on me, pushing me up against the wall. I suppressed a groan; I could feel from the hardness against me that my pathetic escape attempt did nothing but arouse him again. Yet I still I struggled, blindly feeling along the wall as he pinned me to it. I caught a door knob and twisted it, and fell into my old room blindly. I carried him with me.

His weight made me to topple forward. I fell onto my old bed: a dry heap of hay and a moth eaten blanket. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the pot bellied stove.

He was on me, mounting me quickly. I felt him spread my legs apart the cold air on my sex. I inhaled deeply to try and brace myself. His weight hurt but my swollen belly was gently cradled by all the hay. It sank down gently into it.

He started out quickly, excited and desperate for more. When I tried my old trick of letting my mind wander he slowed, sensing another disappointment. He shook me, snapping me out of my daydreams, and then began to probe me gently, rotating his hips and thrusting experimentally at different angles. I clenched my teeth and suppressed a shudder. He gently inserted a finger and expertly began to play with me.

I flashed back to our first meeting, he was slower and more cautious, trying to find the sweet spot and figure out how everything worked. He now found everything quickly enough. I could feel the shivers start to dance up and down my spine.

"I hate you." I said plainly and bluntly, with no emotion. I received no response. He didn't care what I said, as long as my body could be maneuvered into doing whatever he wanted he wanted it to do.

I don't know how long he took; he tried to draw it out. What happened next seemed like hours as he licked me up, then all over and with an absent minded casualness did small obscene things to me. He played with my hair and pulled at my ears. I felt my mind slip into dissociation again.

--------------------------

The Hunter's room was mess. Charts, maps and pictures lay scattered everywhere. In the center of the whirlwind of mess was a single clear picture. A horrible face gazed out into the room. The man glared back at it.

The creature he was hunting was proving surprisingly elusive, for many days it seemed the trail had gone cold. He gazed at the ugly sketch on his wall he felt his respect for it rise a notch. He had expected to find its gory trail everywhere but thus far he had remained well-hidden.

Of course, he should have realized, he had been doing this for untold eons. He had endless practice at getting what he wanted and remaining well-hidden. Sill there was no denying he left victims, sometimes there was remains, but this was rare, more often there was just missing people. He had as many BOLOs and missing persons posters as he could gather all around the ugly sketch. It was at the center of the rash of missing people.

He had a few new ones to put up today, one was a young woman with very long dark hair that he thought rather pretty, but he did not pay any special attention to her. She was just another victim.

He didn't like looking at them, but he forced himself too. There were many, but he tried to remember details about their faces and lives. There were kids in sports clothes and scout uniforms, or smiling out from a birthday party. There were young men and women in military dress, or in prom dresses and graduation gowns. It upset him to think about their how brutally their lives were interrupted.

That wasn't what was bothering him lately though.

He heard a slight squeak interrupting the absolute silence of his room/study. He jumped but calmed down immediately when he saw his mother's face poke into the room, He smiled. She brought in a tray.

"Oh thanks ma," he said. "I was really hungry. You must be _psychic_." They both laughed at his obvious statement.

He saw her gaze drift upwards to the hideous picture above his desk. Involuntarily she shuddered.

The man chewed the sandwich she brought him thoughtfully; long ago she had seen it, when she was a young woman. It had wanted her then, but she one of the few who had ever escaped from him. It was from mostly her descriptions that he based his sketch on. But there had been other sources too.

Her gaze shifted to a calendar he had picked up on a dime store on the way home. It was one of the few among the pictures of puppies and flowers he could tolerate. The colorful pictures of Indians in traditional costumes stood out amongst the grim missing person's posters and sketches of the monster. The calendar was marked obsessively with red ink.

It reminded him of the think that was upsetting him, that awful possibility. His mother's fingers touched the marked up calendar. "Something is wrong." She murmured.

He struggled to swallow his sandwich, it moved down his esophagus like a wad of wet toilet paper. "Something _is_ wrong." He said. "Every twenty-third spring"

"For twenty-three days" is mother supplied automatically.

He looked at her, "It's been a few months at least."

She looked grimly at him. She must have figured it out too, or had a least sensed it, however she asked with quiet, growing despair, "Could it be that you're wrong?"

The Hunter shook his head "That maybe he's asleep already and something _else_ is killing all these people?" he asked a touch sarcastically as he gestured to the pictures of the missing. "He's still here. " He studied the pictures and maps intently. "I know it, and you know it too, you must have dreamed this."

His mother thought about her dreams, how vague and nebulous they were, but filled with gore and pain none-the-less. Sometimes she saw flashes of his victims but she knew better than to act on this, her friend often warned her against its futility, how it caused nothing but pain. It was often too late anyway.

He son had pulled a chart. "I've been tracking him," he said. "I don't know where he is yet, but I think I can tell when he awakes, and when he sleeps, I've been looking back the past few years. It might be that It's cycle is a little different each time, that It doesn't wake up on the_ exact_ same day." He pulled out a sheet of paper, "this year he woke up a little late, into the summer practically, but now its winter and It's still awake."

His mother nodded, "It's a natural cycle, you can predict them, but like most natural cycles it's not exact."

"I'm more worried about the fact that he's still awake! " His mother nodded, more people would die.

"Maybe," she offered, "maybe this is part of his cycle too. Maybe every once in a while he stays awake longer."

The Hunter shrugged. It was a theory, it sounded like an unlikely one to him, but it was all they had.

In a small way he was pleased. He thought he would have to be very lucky to have found him during his twenty-three days. He thought he would have to track him down after he had gone back to his slumber and get him when he was sleeping carcass. He wasn't happy that people were dying of course, but maybe he could get the bastard as look him in the eye as he impaled him.

He was terrified and exhilarated at the idea of seeing It awake.

The Hunter reflected on all he knew, his brain working around the mystery of this incredible creature. The sketches glared down at him, the missing people smiled their frozen smiles. Outside the deceptively innocent cornfield waved beautifully. The tiny shoe sat innocuously on his desk.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: My incessant internet stalking has finally paid off, I'm staying at redplanetes house! She's such a wondeful, kind, generous hostess.

"What is it like?" Ask you envious pitiful mortals out there in Jeepers Creepers land. What _is_ it like? How can I describe the house of the legend herself, the living godess of great Jeepers Creepers fandom?! The brilliant writer who listens to our pathetic pleas of "more, please, more" as we addict ourselves to her wonderful fanfic while she looks down her aquiline nose arrogantly and consents, finally, to bestow upon us (the unworthy) another chapter of pure Grade-A monster porn. We lap it up and mewl our pitiful thanks, and she snorts and turns away to create another brilliant, tortured work of art.

How can I possibly describe it? These three facts oughta cover it.

1. It's a mess

2. It smells funny

3. She keeps a dead tarantula in the fridge

"Leaving"

I was able to stay in my old room. I got a vague idea of how long I had been locked away in my basement by how stale my chocolate had become. Some of my food looked like it had been gnawed on something, probably rats. I threw everything bad into the stove in disgust. I thought about eating something that had been sealed in a tin can but the effort of opening one just seemed too much. Besides I had given away my Swiss army knife. _Stupid_, I repeated pointlessly to myself. It still hurt to think about that, but at least he didn't "punish" me any further after that.

I did light a fire, which felt unbelievably good. I watched the flames flicker for several seconds, I enjoyed the feeling of being warm for the first time in weeks.

He was doing something that I was only vaguely aware of, but since he did not bother me I did not concern myself with him. For a while I just laid down, curled up protectively around myself and dozed.

When I woke up I had a weird kind of nervous energy. I got up, I paced around, sat back down, got up again.

I decided to put on clothes, it was getting dark and the cold was getting to me. Then I stopped, I saw the soap and washcloths I had bought. Why not? I still had some of water from the pond. I quickly heated the water up and gave myself a wonderfully refreshing sponge bath. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I bathed, I realized I smelled. I was out of it for so long. I even made the effort to wash my long messy hair. I washed my stomach and breasts quickly, hating how sore and swollen they felt. I sat and washed between my legs wincing and trying not to cry. I didn't want to cry.

Most of my clothes didn't fit. It was a very depressing fact. I could try to force them on but it was largely ineffective, and uncomfortable. I finally settled on soft, warm grey sweat pants and a large pajama shirt. When I was pulling on woolen socks and shoes I suddenly realized why I was so unusually energetic, even happy: He ripped the chains off.

I could move, I could walk anywhere I wanted to. I got up and walked around the room for the sheer novelty of it. I walked out of the room, up and down the hallway, where I saw the Creeper loading his truck with what looked like a small armory. I even walked into the horrible basement, and I was shocked by how cold it was. It was like a meat locker. I quickly walked up to my warm classroom, savoring every free step.

Maybe it was a little absurd to feel so happy but it just felt so _incredible_ to be free of those awful chains, to not feel like an animal. I wanted to dance around; I twirled, enjoying a simple movement that had been denied to me for so long. I sat down, got up, sat down again, and then got up again. I just couldn't sit still; I had to try out my legs, as if they were brand new. However the constant movement caught up with me. I tired quickly and settled onto the old dry hay to sleep.

I woke up and the first thought that crossed my mind was extremely odd. _It doesn't hurt as much_. I stirred slightly and pondered some more. Sure I feel crampy and tired and swollen all over. Not to mention sore from being forced to play squeeze and squish with the Creeper, but shortly before he would have simply pounded into me, hurting me. I guessed it was punishment for running away. Maybe he's no longer angry, maybe his harsh control would begin to loosen…

He stayed out for a long time. I rested and slept a lot, reveling in the fact that I was in a warm, dry room while he labored in the bitter cold and snow outside. I stretched my legs; I began to feel a little hope again.

He came in a while later, when it seemed that I was drifting permanently off to sleep. I immediately jerked up and faced him. After remembering my legs were free I quickly scrambled up too. He jerked his head toward my things, snow fell off the brim of his hat. "Pack," he ordered, "leaving." He said in his usual brusque style.

The fire was going nicely, plus I was very sleepy. "Nooo" I moaned. "Please, let me stay, at least for the night., it's cold and it's late. Please." I begged.

He seemed to consider. Then he held up a pair of hobbles.

I shrieked and ran. Surprised, he caught me. I struggled harder than I did from the forced sex earlier. I screamed so loud dust fell from the ceiling. After he was done chasing me around the room he wrestled me to the ground and shook the chains in my face. He bared his teeth and held my legs.

"Noooo", I wailed, "No, no, God, no. Please." I begged. His actions plunged me again into the depths of despair. I kicked impotently. "Stay," he ordered and snapped the chains on quickly. I sobbed, how dumb of me to forget the extra pairs he had made.

He pushed me down into the hay. "Stay,"" he repeated. Then he grabbed everything I owned except some of the food and shoved it roughly into my bags. I winced; I usually packed very neatly, taking pleasure in counting and inventorying everything. He merely squeezed everything messily into my luggage, and carried it off to his car.

He came back to sniff me, and then lick me and pull at my hair. "Stay," he said for a third and final time, then bared his teeth at left.

As I quieted down (and tugged despondently at my chains) I thought of what he did. He had taken everything that needed to be taken and loaded it into his car, yet he left me behind.

I wasn't foolish enough to believe that he intended to leave me behind forever but he had given into my pleas, maybe seeing the wisdom of giving me much needed rest and warmth. Whatever his reasons it was clear that he wasn't taking any chances. I knew that all entrances would be firmly locked, and I would only be allowed to hobble around. He had learned from my escape.

**I was very uneasy with leaving her alone for such a long time, however when she begged I could see the advantages of it. Humans are fragile, and humans are weak. Perhaps it is better, for her and the child, to have food and fire and rest.**

**I felt a little better in my decision when the snow started to fall softly again. I scowled as I flicked on my windshield wipers. I saw snow a few times, mostly patches of unmelted spots in the mountains, but this was too much. I disliked it, and the truck is hardly prepared to deal with it.**

**However the girl and I have stayed at The Hive for too long, we might start attracting an inordinate amount of attention, and before long too curious humans will come poking around. While that it is a fun thing when I am home it's less amusing when they break in and run back out to tell everyone. That is always exasperating. Besides I don't want anyone around The Breeder.**

**The problem with human buildings, or indeed any human creations, is that they wear away far too quickly and easily. The funny thing is they seemed obsessed with preservation, perhaps as a consequence of their ridiculously short life spans. Moreover they abandon many of their works, perfect for me, less so when they become uninhabitable after only a few short generations.**

**However The Breeder poses an extra problem. If a building falls on me (it's happened before) I can merely crawl out and eat to repair the damage. She cannot. I scout out my old locations, writing off anything that is has collapsed or seems in danger of collapsing, caves are usually a safe place but I've found something very recent and I want to make it mine.**

**It was a stroke of luck, as these finds usually are. I smelled something very interesting while I was flying low and quick. I circled around, drawn by a tantalizing aroma. I saw a single lonely house, a shack really, human debris lay scattered everywhere. I decided to investigate.**

**I looked around the little house cautiously, there was no one there, it too had many human things scattered about. I walked out, conscious of the fact a human could easily be watching through the thick tree cover, but not worried.**

**It didn't too seem old, it must have been very recently abandoned. Things, little of which seemed useful, were smashed and scattered everywhere. I could smell something very interesting up ahead, as well as less interesting things. A subtle, but unpleasant smell seemed to be everywhere, some of it coming from the human debris. It was vaguely familiar, but I didn't investigate, the interesting smell was getting closer. It was a human.**

**The human was laying there, he was already dead, and already stiff. I poked him with my toes. He was cold, he should have began rotting by now, but laying in the snow preserved his meat somewhat. I sniffed, there was fear but it was very stale, fading away. His glassy green eyes stared out sightlessly. There were several leaky holes in him, as well as some slashes, some down to the bone. **

**I wondered what had happened, then I shrugged and began digging into him. I pried his torso open, trying to discern by sight if anything was good. Hmmm, the rot in him had spread farther that I thought and his heart was severely damaged. I ate part of his stomach. It was good but not warm.**

**There weren't many good things in him and I finished anything useful very quickly. As I started to rise something exploded noisily out of the woods to my right. Caught by surprise, I had my wings out and was flapping in a second. I was halfway airborne when I recognized my threat: a dog.**

**It was barking at me ferociously running back and forth over the body. I spread my wings to their fullest extent and screeched. I heard it whimper but it did not back away. It mock lunged and continued growling and making other threatening noises, I bared my teeth and he did the same. I was already hovering above it so I flapped a few times to gain altitude. It wasn't worth the fight. It could have the man carcass if it wanted; there was nothing good left it anyway. I circled the little clearing and I realized how isolated this spot was, the idea of using it came to me. I decided that this would be mine. I flew back to the Breeder with the dog's barking echoing in my ears.**

**It is a very long trip to my new place and the snow does not help. Twice I have to stop and lift the truck out of mud or snow. It is more difficult to find from the ground and at one point I decided to get up into the air and get my bearings. However I eventually found it and, after pushing the BEATNGU into some of the thick trees that surrounded the clearing, got hungry and ate two of the corpses in the back of my truck.**

**Humans cool remarkably quickly after death, and the weather is not helping. While I notice this tends to preserve them longer I miss hot, squirming meat.**

**In the morning I go back for the breeder.**

Breadcrumbs

It felt like barely dawn when I felt a rough hand shaking me awake. I raised my head, I saw a horrifying monster, the sight was almost normal now. I rolled over and pulled my blanket over my head. "Five more minutes," I murmured.

For whatever reason he let actually sleep in a little longer. I heard him go down into the basement.

I was already awake. I yawned, stretched and sneezed from the dry hay I was laying on. I gathered up the food I had not eaten. I heard a rat scurry in the walls. Suddenly I was glad to be gone from here.

When I put all my food in a plastic bag I noticed how low on rations I was. My wallet was still with me, I could buy some more, I thought of the glint of gold from my debit card…

I got up from putting my food away, the chains jerked my legs harshly. I winced, shouldn't I be used to these by now? I thought of being pregnant forever, wearing these for the rest of my life, very depressing.

I checked the stove, mostly embers and ashes. I considered stirring them to put it out; it was probably safe but why risk it? I didn't want to cause a fire.

In a flash the idea came to me, why _didn't _I want to cause a fire?

I was acting before I could fully grasp what I had planned. I looked wildly around, an old tin can, perfect. The residual heat from the stove made it uncomfortable but I stuck my hand in, desperately trying to scrape up a weakly glowing ember. _Don't go out, don't go out,_ I begged.

The little bit of fruit juice still at the bottom of the can nearly put it out. I almost cried out in a panic but sealed my lips and quickly dumped the ember on the dry hay bed. It glowed a little brighter.

Before it could catch however I smothered it with a piece of cloth, not enough to put it out, but enough to stop my whole bed from bursting into flames. The ember glowed weakly. I grabbed my bag of food, my wallet and a blanket from the bed. The ember pulsed in it's glowing, like something alive. I saw a thin wisp of smoke and piled more hay and the piece of cloth on it. I heard footsteps; before he could reach the door I quickly got out and shut it behind me, hoping that he didn't smell anything.

I grinned, way too brightly. "I'm ready!" I chirped cheerfully. He sniffed and my heart nearly stopped, but to my relief he simply noticed my anxiety, which I had almost constantly now. He took my arm and led me outside.

When we were far enough from the school building he held out his arms to me, as if he wanted to embrace me, I couldn't help glancing guiltily back at the building. No smoke, no fire. Yet.

Perhaps interpreting this as reluctance he grabbed me, holding me in his arms. Before I realized what was happening he had lifted me up, I saw him smile down at me, admiring my swollen belly. I realized what would happen next but I still screamed when he took off.

The world spun dizzily away from me and my stomach spun with it. He laughed in my ear. The ground became smaller and smaller, I squeezed my eyes shut, I've always hated heights.

I was shocked by how swiftly he flew, a squat grey building passed under us in a second. I realized the significance of this. "Stop, STOP!" I screamed. He circled once around in surprise and studied me. Maybe he saw my panic and nausea. I think he assumed I would throw up because he took me back down and edged away from me.

I paused a moment to recover, then immediately resumed my way too cheerful demeanor. I pointed to the supermarket some distance away. "I need more food, I'm going to go shop okay?" and started off.

Visibly I could see him thrown off my rapid shift in manner. He was immediately suspicious. He grabbed my arm and dragged me instantly back. "No." he replied. I tried to squirm away but he tightened his grip so much my arm went numb and yanked me to him. I tried whining, "But I _need_ more food." I pleaded. His face merely clouded with more suspicion. "No." he said forcefully. "Will get you food."

I put on an expression of incredulity mixed with disdain. "Oh you mean like last time? Because those old Cold War emergency rations were _sooo_ tasty." I sneered sarcastically, and then tried to back away.

He grabbed me with both arms and bared his teeth involuntarily. "No." he said with an enraged whisper. He wasn't about to let me go, not after last time. I was still on notice after my escape attempt. I was cowed by his anger. "Please," I whisper but he began lifting me up again. I screamed the first thing that came to mind. "Choco rations low, double-plus ungood!" I shrieked and shook my food bag hysterically. _Where the hell did that come from?!_ Guess I was craving chocolate more that I thought.

He looked utterly bewildered. I decided to press home my point. "I'm hungry, I'll go crazy, and I'll die." I stoked my belly, "_He'll _die."

He sighed and studied me, obviously trying to figure a way out of the situation. Finally he grudgingly grabbed my arm and dragged me to the supermarket. I tried to walk on my own but he would not let me. He wouldn't let me go.

To my shock he tried to walk in with me to the supermarket! I quickly shook him off and turned to face him. "You can't go in here!" I cried in surprise in horror. He glanced at the store then back at me. He grabbed my shoulders. "Quickly." He ordered harshly.

"Okay, um," I glanced down at the chain still around my ankles, then back up to him.

The look on his face hardened. There was no way in hell was he going to take them off. I was visibly pregnant, in pajamas, with an animal hobble around my ankles; _sure I'm not going to attract attention._

Actually, attracting attention was exactly what I wanted. Not too much, for if I was held and questioned then he would come storming in, looking for me. He thought I was going to run off, well there was little chance of that, even if my legs were free. My plan was more subtle that that.

I took the blanket and wrapped it around myself. It looked unusual, but I felt very self-conscious. Plan or no plan I hated public attention. I blushed slightly.

The store was practically empty, too early in the morning. Maybe no one would notice, after all how often do you notice someone's feet? But they clinked gently and made me move awkwardly.

I reminded myself I was pressed for time. I don't know when he would consider me in here long enough but he might come bursting in after five minutes. I grabbed a basket. I stared blankly at the candy and canned food section, after all I was faking my severe food necessity. I shook my head, it didn't matter, and I started grabbing stuff almost randomly off shelves. When I had enough to last me for a while I headed off to the cashier.

To my surprise I saw the same cashier I had last time. I was drawn vaguely towards her for some reason. She saw me and a look of recognition crossed her face. My throat closed, suddenly I realized how hard it was to interact with humans. She gave me a standard "How are you?"

In another lifetime I would have automatically said something like "Fine and you?" but even that simple response seemed beyond me. I blinked stupidly and licked my lips nervously, like an actress that forgot her lines. The cashier raised an eyebrow.

She glanced at my basket. "I'm sorry honey, this line's for fifteen items or less."

I'm merely blinked again. It took me a few moments to get it, "What?" I asked stupidly.

She sighed and pointed to the glowing sign above me. It said…fifteen items or less. I glanced outside nervously. To my horror he was standing in plain sight, although with his hat and coat pulled over his face. He could come rushing in at any moment.

I started to panic. A normal, rational person would have immediately apologized and moved her basket to another aisle. Of course I was neither normal nor completely rational at the moment. I started freaking out. It felt like an eternity since I entered the store, he would come after me.

The cashier cut me off in mid-panic, "Since yer the only person in the store I'll make an exception," and started ringing me up. She smiled at me, but it was the kind of nervous smile you give to a dog that might bite. I glanced out the glass doors; he was still there, pacing restlessly.

She seemed unbearably slow, I wanted to scream at her, I wished I hadn't gotten so many things. She seemed to sense my anxiety because she glanced up to me repeatedly. After she was done and a boy bagged my things I handed her my card with a trembling hand. I felt like I was committing an enormous sin.

She glanced at my card. As soon as she saw the letters "ATM" she shook her head. "I'm sorry honey we don't accept debit." I lost it, at least for a second.

With the card still and my hand I slammed my hands down onto the corner. "PLEASE!" I shrieked, she jumped back. I coughed and lowered my voice. "Please, just use it as credit, I know you can, I've done it before." I couldn't quite keep the hysteria out of my voice.

She gave me a long, hard look, asked for some ID, which I provided, then shrugged and swiped the card. A receipt popped up and I nearly collapsed with relief. She told me to have a nice day.

I could feel eyes on me, and I could hear the other cashiers muttering. I thought I caught a few words. "What's with…blanket…chain?…weirdo." I wrapped the blanket around myself. The bag boy didn't hand me my groceries. "I can take it to your car ma'am." He said with rote politeness.

"NO!" I screamed, gabbed the bags and ran out of that store as fast as the hobble would let me.

The Moonshine Monster

I don't know if my first plan worked, I didn't really know what I was doing. I could have smothered the fire completely, or it could just burn my bed and nothing else.

Or it could burn the whole cursed building down.

I don't know, I'm not an expert on fire. I just hoped it would smolder quietly, so to not gain his attention, and then burn to the ground. Or burn enough to gain outside attention when we were far enough away.

I knew my second plan would work; it was more likely at any rate. My purchase would show up on my account, it would show where I made my purchase. I hoped I had overdrawn, and then the bank would send letters to my family's house. It would show them that I was still alive, that I was still here. It would bring someone to that place.

My family must know I'm missing by now. While I've totally lost track of the time it's been months at least. Surely someone noticed that I've gone.

The first time I could have used the debit card I didn't. I decided against it, I didn't want someone that I possibly loved and cared about tracking me down and running into him. It was the mature, adult thing to do, putting others before myself.

But after their torture, the weeks and weeks in chains, I couldn't stand it any longer. I gave in. I advertised where I was. I prayed to God this decision wouldn't lead to more deaths, that in my desperation I didn't just kill someone I loved.

At least the purchase would take a while to show up, and we'd be far away from the store by then. He took me very far away. We flew for what seemed like hours. I suppose I should have appreciated the amazement of flying without a machine, but at the time all I noticed was the bugs that flew into my face and cold winter air that made me shiver.

The Creeper's wandering hands didn't help.

The place he flew me to was very isolated. It looked like a small natural clearing in a heavy forest. Some of the trees were bare, which gave the place a desolate look, but enough were still green to give me the feeling of cover, thus security.

There was a small shack in the clearing, and it was surrounded with junk.

I could smell something odd, it wasn't a pleasant smell, at least to me, but ever since I've been pregnant I've smelled perfectly normal things that suddenly seem loathsome to me, so I ignored it for a moment and considered my surroundings.

The shack was constructed mostly with what looked like a tin or aluminum gardening shed, along with plywood. It didn't look like much from outside but the inside was surprisingly comfortable, with a thick carpet underneath my feet, a ratty, but soft looking couch. Blankets, sheets, bookcases full of food, books and knickknacks and tools. It was even reasonably sanitary.

But it was a total mess.

I wondered at how everything looked thrown around, ransacked. Tin cans lay scattered over the floor, a few loose pages of books lay here in there. Maybe the Creeper did this, but I saw no body or body parts. I straightened the things up a little (I was going to live here after all). I noticed there was dog food in the shack, and found an extremely useful butane lighter.

I went back outside; the Creeper had pushed his truck as far as he could into the woods and was unloading several things including my bags.

The smell was definitely stronger out here, and it was definitely familiar. I sniffed but couldn't quite pin it down. I searched my memory, I was reminded a little of home. The objects were also familiar. It was mostly common everyday objects; funnels, rubber and metal tubing, wooden barrels. Some of it looked like it had been a metal tank at one point, but like the house the objects lay scattered, but these were more smashed up.

Another smell joined the first one, formed an even more unpleasant undercurrent. I was able to recognize it more quickly. I had smelled it countless times since this whole ordeal. Human noses are good at detecting it. I gagged a little.

Death.

I saw crows, I was little surprised, since being stuck in the basement I haven't seen them for a while. They crowded around something on the ground and fought voraciously among themselves. I should have known, I should have guessed, but I went to inspect it anyway. The crows cawed angrily at me.

I think it was a man but he had been picked at and was rotting. His eyes were already gone.

The Creeper stood next to me. I would have told him off but I knew there was no point; he would just eat unashamedly as usual.

Still _I_ felt a little guilty. I would be living in this man's home, using his stuff. He had killed him so I could gain a little comfort.

Before I could say anything a loud baying made us both jump. However the Creeper reacted much quicker. He grabbed me and pushed me behind him. He spread his wings up and shook them menacingly. He made an awful hissing-growling noise from deep within his throat. I heard a whimper, I peeked over his shoulder.

To my surprise I saw a dog. It wasn't unusually large, pretty average sized for a dog, but it was very compact and powerful looking, with strong, broad jaws.

I once read a book about dogs shortly after my family got one. I learned all about their body and facial expressions because I loved our dog and desperately wanted to know everything about it. I could tell this dog was aggressive, it was baring its teeth, but I could tell it was very afraid too. Its tail was in between its legs and it was backing off rapidly. The Creeper, with his big wings and bizarre smell must have frightened him badly.

I wanted to speak soothingly to it, maybe even try and pet it, but the monster shoved me back. He kept stepping forward shaking his wings and hissing menacingly. I noticed for the first time his wings were translucent orange in the light, with hundreds of little blood vessels in the membranes.

At one point the dog held its ground and refused to back off any farther. That was at the edge of the clearing, next to the corpse. The Creeper immediately pulled me away from him. He herded me into the shack, "Stay," he ordered, and at first I thought he was talking to the dog, but with a sudden dispiriting realization I realized he was talking to me, the disobedient human.

The dog kept his distance, but continued to bark. I stayed in the shack while the Creeper went back to his truck. I obeyed; I could see he was afraid of it attacking me.

But my eyes could not stray from the dog.

The crows had flown into the trees, mostly silent but with the occasional disgruntled sounding caw. Every time they tried to land on the corpse the dog barked and chased them away.

I thought at first the dog wanted the meat, to eat whatever was left of the man but from what I could see he didn't seem to be eating it. He would nudge the body, and run his paws over it, then howl despairingly.

Tears sprang unexpectedly to my eyes. I noticed the dog had a long red streak down its powerful looking shoulder. I told myself not to be so sentimental, perhaps he merely wanted to eat the corpse after all, but despite all the bad things that had happened to me, or maybe because of them, I felt unusually tender-hearted toward the animal. I desperately wanted to pet it now.

Then I saw the Creeper moving toward him. In his hands was long knife.

"NO!" I screamed at him and staggered to my feet. The Creeper paused. The dog paused. I was moving as fast as I could, stumbling and tripping over the hobbles. He started toward me, I could see the enormous knife in his hand, a small sword practically, and the dog began barking again, not understanding but sensing another confrontation.

"Don't kill it!" begged throwing up my hands. He pointed angrily to the shed, "Go back," he ordered, I merely moved closer and begged once more. He shook his head and wheeled on the dog again, I knew how quick he would be, in a few seconds he would gut the dog. It growled and whimpered.

It was hard and tiring but I rushed over, he tried to stop me from interfering. I did the only thing that came to mind. I pointed to the thick trees where the dog had come. Without realizing it I had used the same gesture and command as the Creeper. "Go back dog." I ordered in a loud, strong voice.

To the surprise of both of us, the dog obeyed.

=--==-=--==-=-=--==-=-=-=--=--=-=-=--=--=

I began to wonder about this place more and more. I felt it was familiar enough, if only my brain could solve the puzzle. I started looking at the stuff scattered around the shack. It looked like junk and it smelled like rot. However it wasn't the rotten-meat smell of the man. It smelled like rotten grain. I sniffed it, puzzled.

The Creeper helped pick up, he took any bits that seemed interesting and put it in a box his car. Then he shoved everything into a pile.

I thought of the man, and the man's corpse, surely the dog belonged to him, but why would he live out here in such a desolate place? I thought of the dog, probably he would come back, try and defend the man's corpse and maybe try to "wake" him again. I felt a surge of sympathy for the animal, and I was lonely. An idea came to mind.

I had remembered the dog food in the shack; I started to gather it up. Behind it I saw food that wasn't canned. Intrigued, I moved the dog food aside and I saw bags of grain and corn, sugar, yeast…suddenly it dawned on me. This was a still.

I went back outside , the dog wasn't back yet, but I looked at the pile of junk and suddenly realized what everything was for. I didn't know much about alcohol (for I was sure that was the source of the other rotting smell) but it seemed like this was the equipment you made it with. I recognized the smell as fermentation.

As I waited for the dog to return I spread out a blanket on the cold ground and sat. I wondered at this place. It was a long way from anywhere, so maybe the man was doing this illegally? What were the laws about alcohol in this state? I searched my mind but couldn't remember. A lot of other memories did come to me though. I remember reading about people who cooked up illegal, untaxable alcohol in the backwoods. Usually on public land so their own wasn't seized if they were caught. The more I thought about it the more it made sense, "So we're in a federal forest," I murmured, the Creeper looked at me, but I'm sure the words meant nothing to him.

Then he had killed the moonshiner, and injured his dog. The crows began to descend on the corpse again.

Dog

The dog did not come back. I had waited all night, till I fell asleep and nearly froze on the snowy ground. I remember the Creeper picking me up and carrying me to the couch into the moonshiner's shack. He wrapped a blanket tightly around me. I fell asleep in the shack.

Brother

His father had woken him up bright and early. His body really, really wished he could have slept in, but he shook himself out of such selfish thoughts. He had a job to do.

His family was nice enough to make him breakfast, and he winced when he remembered that he had to call his work. The explanation was long and lengthy but they finally accepted his answer. He was a fairly good employee after all, and it _was_ an emergency. _Fuck it_, if he had to quit, or be fired, he would take it, he could always get another job elsewhere. This was more important.

He dismissed the job from his mind, he had more pressinng matters. His brother and father ran around the house arranging everything. Miguel showered and dressed. He noticed the longer he was awake the less tired he became, more focused. A weird sense of optimism also took a hold of him. He surely was going to find her, he had to, even though from an intellectual standpoint he could see how grim his actual chances were.

When he was ready and packed (they lent him some extra clothes) his brother took him aside first.

"Here is the keys to my truck, and don't start arguing with me," he cut off Miguel before he could start. "It looks like crap but it's more reliable, sturdier, more easily fixed, better mileage, the works. And," he added, "better maintained." Miguel did not argue, for his little brother always showed mechanical aptitude. He was also surprisingly touched. He embraced him on the way out.

Before he could leave however his father pulled him aside.

"Cooper's four rules." he demanded abruptly.

"Wha-?" he was bewildered, then realized as his father impatiently pushed him. "C'mon, c'mon you know!"

"Oh right," he said still taken by surprise. "um, number one the gun is always loaded."

His father smiled and nodded in satisfaction.

"Two, never point at anything you're not gonna shoot, three, uh, finger off the trigger until on the target, four, know your target."

"And what's behind it." His father added, but still kept his approving smile. "Thank God I taught you all something useful. When's the last time we've gone shooting?" he demanded.

Miguel winced, "Not for a while." he admitted. "And I haven't really gone on my own." His father gave a small disapproving sound but shrugged. "It'll have to do, at least you're not totally ignorant." his eyes suddenly got a misty look, "I should have taken the girls more, maybe given Maria something..." his voice trailed off in regret and sadness. Miguel winced in sympathy but supressed his tears, his father did likewise.

"Here," he said presenting him with a .45 Glock and plenty of ammunition, "and take this," he pushed a rifle case towards him with his feet. Miguel was more than a little taken aback but his father contiued without noticing, "It should fit under your brother's car's seat, keep it out of sight." The young man examined the failry unused 30-.06, aimed it carefully at the floor, examined the barrel and pulled back the lever. Perfect.

"If it looks like you're gonna get into a fight, use that first." His father instructed

As he was leaving they seemed to be in a rush to give him everything he could possibly need.

His brother had given him his truck, his father his guns, however one last family member had to greet him on the way out.

Miguel's father stiffened, "Mom..." he said, but she brushed off his protests and approached her grandson.

"I know I can't stop you," her voice wavered and almost broke, "but I know you have to go." Alberto and his father looked on in amazement. Miguel noticed she used a cane, before he could ask she read his thoughts and dismissed them. "Just getting old, it's a part of life," her eyes seemed to wander and grow misty for a moment, then refocused on him.

"When things get wierd, and trust me they will, don't give up, don't question your sanity either, what you see is real." She licked her lips and hesitated, tears welled in her eyes and she had to struggle to get the words out. "I won't tell you exactly what you're facing because you will never believe me, but if it looks like you're going to lose just run, run away, even-" She stumbled "even if it means leaving your sister behind."

The whole family stood in shocked silenece, Miguel could barely comprehend her rambling words. His father stepped forward, as if to restrain her. "Mom," he began again but Miguel's granmother shook him off. "Listen!", "Mom the doc said you gotta rest-" "Just listen to me!" she shrieked, "Maria _is still alive,_ she's not dead! She can be brought back to us." and she said this with such impassioned certainty that for a moment the family believed her, desperately needed to believe her. His grandmother looked at him with wide, frantic eyes and clutched her shoulders. "She won't be killed, but you can be, so if push comes to shove then leave her, she won't be harmed. Do you understand? Promise me!"

Miguel mumbled a hasty promise and pried her hands off of him. He gave a bewildered glance to his father, who merely returned it.

After a moment Miguel disentangled himself from his family. "I'm off then," he said somewhat awkwardly. His younger brother gave him a hug. "Good luck," he whispered, his father hugged him too, but silently. His grandmother merely brushed the long silver hair out her eyes and gave him another cryptic, but encouraging remark, "You will find her, it won't be easy, but I know you can do it."

His brother waved to him, "Mom's family said they're praying for you," he grinned "and said to call them if you need anything!"

"Call us too!" his father called out, "call us if you need money or help, or anything."

He could see them all in the rearview mirror before the truck twisted around a bend in the narrow shabby road.

Dog (continued)

I wake up early in the morning, snow has fallen and muffled everything. The man's corpse has been buried. The chains are so cold they stick to my skin. My bare feet are freezing.

The Creeper did not lock me into the shack, and it is so cold I don't see how I can get out, or even move very far. So I stayed inside and reorganized the shack.

I open a can of dog food and place it carefully outside the door of the shack.

_----------------------------------_

_You did the right thing._

_I did not._

_Yes you did and you know it._

_I told a boy to abandon his sister to __**Him.**_

_If it looked like he was going to be killed. Do you want to lose two grandchildren?_

The old woman broke down in sobs.

_Hey I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know this is hard, I love them too, but trust me, that was the right thing to do._

_I trust you, but it doesn't make this any easier._

_I know._

_**You**__ of all people should know how hard it is to abandon a sibling._

_...I know_


	26. Chapter 26

Dance

When I awake the next morning the food is gone and I am pleased, however there is still no sign of the dog. I hobble around our little forest clearing; I see dog prints in the snow everywhere, but no dog. Still, I don't believe the Creeper killed him.

Since it's so cold out I quickly returned to the moonshiner's shack. It's somewhat tidier than it was before; things were still jumbled here and there. I pull my blanket over my couch/bed, the closest I get to actually making it. I turn to the moonshiner's belongings.

I haul the cornmeal bags into the corner, struggling with the extra weight in my stomach. I got a can of chicken noodle soup for breakfast. It was cold, but delicious.

The moonshiner had a lot of things, and it seems like he was a fairly messy guy but what's weird is how the place seems utterly ransacked. The Creeper wouldn't do that would he? Sure he's look through his victims stuff to see if anything was useful to him, he had no qualms about that, but he didn't strike me as the smash and grab type guy. This seemed more…thuggish.

There was no television, but I could see a smashed DVD player. There were some things for the dog, a leash, some chew toys, and flea powder. A few torn up books and magazines, some smashed chairs, cushions with the stuffing ripped out. I dragged all the useless and broken things and threw them outside. The Creeper would take care of it.

Underneath all the broken and smashed stuff I found a radio. It looked old; it still had a tape deck on it. I thought I saw tapes somewhere.

The moonshiner had a bookcase, which he seemed to use for anything but books. It had tipped over but was relatively intact. I propped it up on its cinderblock base and looked for the tapes. They had been strewn carelessly over the floor.

The first one I picked up just said "Motown" on it. I popped it into the tape deck. The radio emitted a primal groan and ate the tape.

"Oh c'mon!" I told myself. I managed to extract the tape, which was now in ribbons, and fished for another one. _Please let his work_, I thought, _if you don't I'm down to a victrola and the best hits of the 1920's for entertainment._

The tape, which said "Rolling Stones Mix" sounded slow and distorted at first, but then Mick Jagger's vocals came into focus and I got a working, if somewhat tinny sounding song.

"Yes!" I was so happy I even managed to jump to my feet, no easy thing when you're a few months pregnant and have chains around your ankles. As the music warbled out I began to sway my hips and clap to the music. I haven't danced in…forever. It was hard doing it while being pregnant but it was nice to hear slightly more modern music than what the Creeper played ceaselessly. So I fell back into old moves.

"You'd make a grown cry-y-y-y, you'd make a grown man cry-y-y-y, Oh! You'd make a dead man come!" I sang and twirled around. I brushed my hair from my face.

The Creeper was standing at the doorway, his eyes and teeth glittering. I stopped immediately. He came forward; I saw that he had some of my bags in his hand. He tossed them on the floor.

A new song started up, it sounded like "Beast of Burden", with a quick prod of my toe I turned the radio off and backed away from him nervously.

His face instantly fell, "No," he insisted, coming forward. "Play music." I tried to back away but it's not a big place and he is much faster that I am.

"Play music," he insisted again as he grabbed my shoulders. I crossed my arms and looked away. His hands slid down to my hips. He tried to get at my breasts, but my crossed arms prevented that. He settled on grabbing my hips and pulling them closer to him.

At this point I was well aware of what was going to happen, but did not cry or scream. I tried pushing his chest away, but he grabbed my hand and brought it down to his crotch to feel his rapidly stiffening cock. I jerked away in alarm.

He snickered but for the most part seemed totally focused on his arousal, he was farther along than I thought he would be. He pushed me onto the couch. I tired to lay there as listlessly as possible, he pulled off my pajama bottoms and opened my legs as wide as the hobbles would allow, he groaned with satisfaction as he slipped himself into that wet, warmth, made a little extra tight by the fact that I can't open my legs all the way.

I try to be brave, I know now not to struggle or resist because of how hopeless it is. I do not cry, but I am still ashamed at the pleasant heat coming from between my legs. I know that if I do not feel this than all I feel is pain and discomfort. The trick is not letting him carry me away, but he tries.

After he is done he does not collapse on top of me, but hovers just above me, mindful of my big belly. He sniffs and licks me quietly, and panting from his own effort. He runs his fingers through my damp hair.

"Get off." I try to say in the most waspish voice possible, but my own breathless panting undermines it. He slowly untangles his hand from my hair.

He gets off but takes his time doing it. He withdraws slowly, and makes a show of disentangling our legs from the hobbles. Afterwards he puts on his hat with a knowing wink, he knows he's won.

I lay quietly on the couch until he goes away.

I want to scream. I want to scream endlessly in pain and anger and humiliation, but suppress it, if I do I might never stop. Instead I see my notebook, balanced on top of the bags he brought in.

The winter snow has made it a bit damp but it doesn't matter. I open it and draw myself as I am now, utterly helpless, but I add my revenge; razor sharp teeth where they don't belong. Afterwords I sleep off my depression.

What's in a Name?

I didn't respond. I ignored him; I hated the tone he took with me.

"Come" he ordered again, emphasizing with a gesture. I crossed my arms and pressed my lips together. He knew it simply wasn't me not hearing him, I was actively resisting. He took long, quick, angry strides over toward me and grabbed my arms. I stiffened, but I knew it was useless. Instead I yelled at him.

"Don't talk to me like I'm...like I'm some kind of animal!" I demanded. To my surprise a blank look spread across his face.

"But..._are _an animal."

I felt my temper rise a notch. The scowl on my face deepened. "I'm a human being!" I screamed. His face still looked blank but he decided to try it again. He curled his fingers, "Human. Come"

My face flushed, the anger spread across my skull and down my back like a horde of biting fire ants. I gritted my teeth, tears formed in my eyes. I pulled away like a stubborn mule. He sighed in exasperation.

I mumbled out half-formed curses and insults. I was so engaged I couldn't even scream. "Fuck you...fucking monster...don't...asshole...talk to me like..." My arms shook stiffly; my fists were clenched, pointing to the ground.

He still looked confused, but an intrigued look had come across his face, the hint of a smile. He decided to try something, a little experiment. After some thought he decided. "Woman." he called me and I shook my head. Another pause, "Breeder."

I couldn't even talk, rage blocked my throat and flooded my eyes with tears. I turned and walked away as fast as the hobble would let me, with stiff angry strides. My one coherent thought was "_how dare he...how dare he_" Breeder was a horrendous insult, an affront to everything I was, everything I had always believed in. How dare he that bastard...

He chased after me and grabbed me. I wanted to hit him so badly. "Mar-ee-ah" he called after me. I struggled and he held on to me tighter. "Muh...Mar-ee-uh" he seemed to struggle with the odd word. He frowned, and despite my rage I felt a flicker of interest in myself. He smiled his horrible smile. "Mar-ee-uh"

I was utterly confused for a moment, and then it suddenly hit me like a freight train. "Mar- do you mean, _Maria?_" His smile stretched into a very pleased grin. He gripped my shoulders tightly, sniffing like an overexcited dog.

I blinked and try to keep my mind from reeling; he had never ever called me by name before, even by a mangled pronunciation. I thought back, he's never called me anything, not even "Hey you." The sheer weirdness of it struck me dumb, seemed to leech all the rage right out me. How did he even know my name? He had pulled me closer. He was stroking my hair fondly and sniffing it. "Mar-ee-ah. My Mar-ee-ah"

My cheeks were burning hot, I could feel the body heat radiating off of him. I mumbled something incomprehensible and tried to back away, but it was a feeble protest at best. He held onto me tightly and ushered me eagerly to the table. Now I know why he tried to call me, he wanted to show me another one of his little 'art projects'. I don't know why, I don't care about them, or I try not to care about them, but something immediately caught my eye.

_There's a woman, oh God that's me, look at my hair_, it was long and windswept, it looked prettier than it did in real life. _There's him, what are we doing? Oh God_, I winced. He had copied my stupid sketch and expanded it, remolded it after his own vision. The huge blaring carving portrayed us having sex, it was all very detailed, especially the look of rapture on my face. His face was busy gnawing on my neck, yet there was no pain on my face.

The picture got even more horrifying, I was devouring him, but **not** with my mouth. The huge gaping hole in-between my legs was swallowing him, pulling him in. Unnatural teeth shredded his sex, his legs, and his whole lower body. He ate my top while I devoured the bottom.

Now my face glowed, he grinned at my response. It was all disturbing and exciting and sexy and horrifying at the same time. The concept had been copied, borrowed from me. My notebook was open on the page with the ridiculous dentada. I had drawn out a wish, the desperate revenge fantasy of violated women and he had totally, completely misinterpreted it.

As if seeing the confusion on my face he pointed at my crotch, then at his mouth. He groped in between my legs with a sudden movement. "Hungry," he laughed lecherously, "Insatiable."

I knew he was talking about both of us, although different parts of us. I felt anger, confusion and embarrassment.

He pronounced the last word something like "insayshuhbul" but I could still understand him. My eyes were drawn back to my notebook. I had signed my work, and of course my name was clearly written on the cover. I picked it up. He followed my train of thought and smiled. "Mar-ee-ah" he said again with quiet pride.

All I could think, all I could say was: "It's pronounced Muh-REE-uh"

He frowned slightly, then raised his eyes to the heavens. I followed his gaze, the moon hung over us silently, looking like a tarnished silver coin. He pointed to it. "Mar-EE-uh." I sighed and bit my lip, this was a little harder to understand. It could mean any number of things, was he comparing me to the moon? I giggled at the clichéd silliness of such a thing. Imagined a lovelorn monster singing a whiny love song. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Mar-ee-uh" he waved his free hand at the cold silent moon. "Darkness, Mareeuh" an ancient song lyric floated through my brain _And everything under the sun is in tune/But the sun is eclipsed by the moon._ I shook my head and blinked, funny at what your brain throws up in odd moments, a half-forgotten science lecture floats up.

"Ohhhh, maria," it all comes flooding back. I know Mar is Spanish for sea, probably Latin too, and people used to think the dark spots on the moon were oceans. It all makes sense. I shake my head and smile. "It's spelled the same," I explained, "but pronounced differently. My name is Muh-ree-uh." I drew out the syllables. "Maria Adams." _And I am not pleased to meet you, _I said silently.

This information seemed to make him happy all over again, how it easy it was to please him, I noted. He felt my hair, stroking, musing. "Muh-ree-ah, muh-REE-uh," he rolled my name across his tongue. I felt a sudden regret, I don't want my name, the one my mother gave me, being toyed with by his evil filth, but what choice did I have?

"Muh-ree-uh, my Maria." he sniffed me again in quiet joy.

"Yeah, Maria," I said dryly, "it means 'bitter'".

The Hunter's Dream

"_In the garden sky I saw the new moon reaping _

_And minded was I of my own life's field: What harvest wilt thou to the sickle yield _

_When through thy fields the moon-shaped knife goes sweeping?"_

-Hafiz

The Hunter dreamed, and like most nights he dreamed of hunting.

However this wasn't his usual hunting dream, the nervous, violent ones. Even good dreams of that variety were exhilarating and frightening. Even the ones where he achieved victory over his eternal enemy were nervous and dangerous. It was as if his subconscious was warning him not to get to cocky around the monster.

Lately his dreams seemed to getting worse. It made him nervous and afraid. The trail seemed to be growing colder, victims still existed in little ones and twos but it seemed careful now, as if it wanted to make it's targets appear randomly over the map. It broke it's own rules regarding the time limit. A terrible irrational thought came over him; _does it know I'm after him?_ His dream would turn, he would start out hunting the monster, but in the end the monster would hunt him.

He tried to shake such thoughts from his mind, but could not.

However this night the dreams were different. This one was almost pleasant, he dreamed of his father. He could still remember his rugged handsome face, accentuated by the long thin scar that ran down his cheek. It was his father who taught him how to hunt.

The dream shifted, he was in the woods, damp cool green air all around him. He was hunting, but only for venison. In the dream he was alone, but he felt the presence of his long dead father and it made him happy. It reminded him of the times they went hunting together.

He carried his rifle carefully, the way his father taught him. He was sure it was a buck, he thought of the big trophy antlers he would get. He stalked the deer through the woods but it seemed to elude him, he would glimpse just before it ducked behind a tree, or see its tan hide vaguely through the underbrush. He would peer into his scope and it would melt away in the mist.

He was getting frustrated, but also excited. He stalked carefully, perfectly, never putting a foot down on a twig or accidentally getting upwind of the creature. He was the perfect hunter. He slithered fluidly through the trees after his prey.

The dream reached its climax as the sky darkened. The moon appeared over the horizon, making the woods even more ghostly. He sighted his prey in the distance, carefully aimed his rifle, got the buck through the crosshairs and pulled back the bolt in one smooth motion. He fired.

He quickly ran up to the prey, happy to see he caught it square in the shoulder, right through the heart. It was dead. He pulled out his knife.

The Hunter looked up, to his surprise he saw he was no longer in the forest, he was in his field. The crescent moon hovered over the horizon; it floated in his corn like a celestial scythe. A crow cawed.

He looked at his deer, an even bigger surprise, it was a doe, not the buck he sighted. He wondered at the sudden change in confusion. Perhaps he didn't see it clearly, or perhaps tracked the wrong deer? He shrugged, the antlers weren't all that important anyway, he was after meat. He sliced open the doe's skin carefully with the knife's gut hook and expertly removed it's viscera. His experienced hand traveled lower of its body, odd, it felt swollen here…

The crow cawed again, this time directly above him. Startled, the hunter jerked to look at it. He landed on a branch above him and cawed again and again. It almost was invisible in the glowing darkness, the only thing that distinguished was the shine in its beady eyes and the rising moon reflecting off its glossy feathers, it cawed frantically, warningly. The Hunter shook his head in annoyance and returned to the deer.

Only it wasn't a deer.

He looked down and instantly jumped to his feet and backed away, gasping in horror. Where there was once a doe there was a woman. She was naked, spread out obscenely on the ground, her slender legs stuck out pitifully like the doe's, and she had the same soft eyes, but they held both life and pain.

He felt vomit in his throat. She was opened up, exactly like the doe had been. Her guts were hanging out, spilling onto the ground. His eyes traveled over her body in horror. She was skinny and swollen at the same time. Her limbs were slender and laying uselessly on the ground. Her breasts and belly were big and ripe. He couldn't stop staring in horror at his handiwork. His mind tried to deny it, _no, no, no_ but he could see what he had done. Wildly he looked down at his hands and knife, they were still covered in blood. He felt his knees tremble.

She kicked helplessly. She cried in agony, she looked at him with her big desperate eyes. _"Why?"_ she whimpered (even in his horror he had to wonder at how she could speak after being eviscerated) _"Why did you do this to me?" _His knees gave way, he kneeled next to her. He touched her guts, trembling at the horror of it. Stupidly he thought he could help her, put them back in somehow.

His had traveled over her belly; he felt the swelling there. _Oh no_ He saw inside of her through the incision he made. _Oh God_, she was pregnant. He could look in and see the baby plainly. The woman moaned in agony again.

"I-I didn't mean-," he sputtered helplessly. He tossed the knife away, trying to deny the reality of what he had done. It hit him so badly he almost fainted. _I shot and gutted a pregnant woman like a deer._

"_Why did you do this to me?"_ she whispered again, pain in her voice. The crow's caws were utterly hysterical now. It was cawing without respite, screaming to the world the hideous thing he had done. The Hunter managed to get up on legs that felt like rubber and back away. The pregnant woman gazed up pitifully at him, still whimpering. Her body shone in the moonlight, her long hair spilled around her, black as the crows wings. He backed away, feeling like a coward and a monster. The mantra _Oh God, Oh God_ repeated over and over in his head.

Suddenly he caught a movement in the field. It was the moon, or he thought it was the moon; it was bobbing toward him rapidly and eerily. He felt the woman's blood congeal on his hands. She moaned again, and it seemed to call the moon towards them. The Hunter was rooted to the spot, unable to move at the unnatural sight.

The moon curved down at him like a scythe. He could now see the dark figure that held it, it was completely black, only visible because it even darker than the surrounding night.

The shadow man held the curving moon in his hands. The sight of the mutilated woman seemed to give him pause. He seemed to be absorbing the sight. Then he viciously turned on the Hunter, who could see now that it _was_ a scythe, eerily glowing in the night. The shadow man held it like the Grim Reaper, and the Hunter had no knife, no rifle, he stood helplessly. He was just fodder waiting to be harvested. The shadow man swung the scythe…

The Hunter awoke with a start, shocked.

As he rinsed his face in his bathroom he reflected on eeriness of the dream, he never had one like that, even with all the nightmares he was having lately. Maybe he would talk to his mother about it.

_Nah,_ he decided, it was just a dream. A weird one to be sure but,

_But what?_

Things were weird, even by his standards. He glanced at the picture of the monster, then at the calendar, but he did not understand any if it. So he merely curled up in his bed again.

The Brother's Journey

Miguel Adams slowly pulled up to the non-descript gray building. He parked carefully in the gravel lot, undid his seat belt, double checked his address then sighed. He didn't really want to do this. To be shamefully honest what he felt like doing was turning the truck around going home and getting on with his life.

But he knew that was impossible. He steeled himself.

The young man got out of his car walked slowly up the steps and entered the building. The constant ring of telephones, the shine of disinfectant on linoleum, and that unique prison smell greeted him. Pertwilla county police station.

He presented himself to the front desk where a beefy, harassed-looking redneck cop manned the counter.

_Is it just me or do all these rural cops look the same? _Miguel thought vaguely as the man checked his ID and appointment. "Officer Binns is still out on patrol but his shift ends soon, why dontcha take a seat there and he'll be with yew in a moment." Miguel nodded silently and sat broodingly in the waiting room, too depressed even to mentally snark at the cop's hick accent.

His mind wandered as he slumped further down on the chair, trying to get comfortable. He thoughts felt vague and unfocused to him. His mind skittered from one subject to the next. A flash of memory of Maria with a long pony tail running around in front of him, his little brother reading the police report and crying, a man smashing down a door to get to a teenaged girl and old woman. In his mind he could see the two huddled together and crying in fear.

Oddly he couldn't picture their assailant. In his mind's eye all he saw was a sinister shadow, then his mind would move away, like a frightened animal. He couldn't comprehend it.

Worse was the sheer surrealness of the situation. His little sister was kidnapped and still missing, or even possibly dead somewhere. This didn't happen to your family, it happened to other people. It happened on television while you watched it with your family. This doesn't happen to you.

He also felt useless. He was going sniff around but as the police report read there was precious little clues. What the hell was he going to do? He loved his sister and would look for her yes but he was an engineer for Christ sake not Sherlock Holmes.

Just as he was beginning to panic himself with thoughts of letting his little sister down with his own lack of competence a policeman stepped in front of him.

Miguel immediately jumped up, causing the cop to take a few startled steps back. Miguel apologized.

"No problem," he said good naturedly, then became solemn, "I can understand, you want to get started, but I have to warn you we can tell you everything we know, but it ain't much."

"Is it true though?" Miguel asked, still refusing to believe the weird report. "You're telling me that my sister reported a guy running her off the road, then stole her car. Next she stays with this kindly old lady for a few days then some guy-possibly the same one- smashes into her house, beats up the old lady, takes my sister and there's been absolutely no sign of her since?" he inhaled sharply to recover his breath.

Officer Binns smiled, a slow grim smile that twisted his mouth. "Welcome to Pertwilla."

A/N; The dark humor movie _Teeth_ inspired Maria's drawing. The surreal dream sequence the Hunter has is a dream I had a few nights ago (which prompted me to finish this chapter) which in turn was inspired by the poem and possibly a scene in Ami Quinton's _Journal of a Heradus._


	27. Chapter 27

**I want the music again, but she refuses to play it for me. I walked in on her singing, and to my delight, dancing, to wonderful music. Even though she gets bigger every day she still dances with a certain kind of grace. Which is wonderful to my eyes.**

**However when she sees me she stops. Her cheeks flame red, a fascinating reaction. And she slowly turns off the music.**

**I am disappointed, I want more music but she refuses to give it to me.**

**Later when she is outside I come into my new shack and find the radio. I don't know what to do with it so I press buttons, one at a time. When the music finally starts a voice screams out "I can't get no!" and I drop it in surprise. It groans once ("satis-faction") and then it dies.**

**I twitch my head spines around in thought.**

**I try again. Nothing. I shake it, nothing. I shake it harder and pound the button. A weird moaning issues from it: "Gimme, gimme, the honky-tonk blues." Then nothing. I've killed the music box.**

**I hear a laughing noise, then a bark. It grows closer and closer until it finally bursts thought the door. I hear her laughing at the dog over her shoulder as she comes in. Then she stops abruptly as she sees me. I hold up the radio.**

**She looks puzzled then angry when she realized what I had done. I know I look unapologetic. I want her to fix it.**

**She paces around angrily. "This was the only decent music," and "I can't believe you" and all sorts of boring indignant noises. I just want her to fix the music so she may dance for me once more.**

**When she announces she cannot fix it. I shove her towards the couch. She screams the dog bites, and she hits me until I go away. It is not worth the trouble this time.**

Hero

That asshole broke the radio and the tape inside of it, now I really am down to the greatest hits of the 1920's. I can hear Miles Davis outside.

I try to read but I cannot. I try to fix the tape player and I cannot. I don't know what to do. Then the dog nuzzles my hand.

"Hey boy." I said brightly. I patted his head. His tail thumped against me frantically. I feel even more indebted to him after he bit the Creeper for me. I smirk. The dog licks me enthusiatasticly. I laugh, then I laugh again because it has been so long since I've laughed so freely.

He brings a chewed tennis ball toward me.

"Okay, boy." I take him outside. It's cold, but pleasant to do something so normal. As enjoy the mindless game I think of what to call him.

My mind runs through a list of names, traditional and non-traditional. I once had a beagle named Ariel, because I was obsessed with the little mermaid when I was little. But this dog is male.

When I automatically pick up the ball and throw it again for the umpteenth time I hear a low growl. The Creeper has come back from dumping the garbage that was strewn around the shack. "Dog!," I yell. "Come here," He still growls and the Creeper growls right back. I get up, hobble over and drag him back. The dog growls at him the whole way. The Creeper looks displeased.

"I know your brave," I say as wave the ball in front of him to get his attention. "But he'll kill you. Don't be a hero."

The dog ignores my advice and throws another growl at the monster.

So he got his new name: Hero.

The Moonshiner

I rejoice that the Creeper has left me alone these past few days. I'm fairly happy, given my situation. I can hobble around. My stomach gets bigger every day it seems, and I've reached a point were I feel I could face the scariness of birth in order just to end this pregnancy.

So I pass the time. I read what the moonshiner had (not much). I listen to the Creeper's music. I play with Hero.

He barks at the Creeper. He growls when he gets to close to me. The tension is rising between them everyday. I know the monster considers me his property, and he doesn't like my new found pet protecting me from what he considers his right.

One day I left for five minutes to use the bushes and came to find the Creeper hissing and flaring his wings and the dog barking and about to bite him again. I saw the Creeper reach into coat.

"NO!" I scream and hobbled over as fast as the chains would allow me. My yell stopped both short for a second which was all I needed. I hobbled over and threw myself over Hero and wrapped my arms around his neck. I shielded his body as much as possible. I know the Creeper would not badly hurt me.

He let out a rage-filled scream. Then stomped angrily away.

I released the breath was I was holding in my lungs. Hero wagged his tail.

"Don't do that again." I tell him with tears in my eyes.

I know I'm being stupid. I know it's dumb, forming an attachment with this animal. The Creeper won't tolearate this for much longer. He wanted me for himself. He wouldn't tolerate me showering affection on an animal that is loyal to only me and tries to protect me from him.

But I can't help it, the dog saved me from the Creeper before, and I know he'd do it again. If I can't form an attachment, feel anything other than hate and fear, care for something other than myself, then am I really human anymore?

I shudder when I think maybe that's what the Creeper wants.

I walk in the woods. The dog pulls on his leash impatiently, nearly pulling my arm out of my sockets. "Wait!" I laugh and gasp for breath. Exercise. I need exercise since being locked up so long.

Plus it's good for pregnant women.

I stop dead. The smile melts off my face. Then Hero yanks me forward again.

Thoughts like this come unbidden. _I have to go to the bathroom now because I'm-pregnant. I really want to eat chocolate all the time, I guess because I'm-pregnant_. _Please be careful crawling all over me Creeper, I'm-pregnant._

The I'm-Pregnant thoughts come less and less now. But they still come, I guess I'm getting use to the idea.

"Wait, Hero!" I call again. But he's loving this walk. He pulls me deeper in the woods. He pants happily and I laugh and puff along with him.

I see a dark shadow in the trees.

Instantly I stop. Hero tries to pull me, but I pull him back.

Dogs can sense changes in humans instantly. Hero learned my body language quickly. He stops when he realized something was wrong. When he senses him he gives his standard get-away growl. The Creeper ignores him.

When he wants to he can move like a shadow, swift and slick, uncoiling from around himself. He does this now emerging from the trees. He is not happy.

"Where are you going?" he gives a muddy growl.

I look around in puzzlement, then I realized with horror that Hero had pulled me into the woods deeper than I thought. I immediately dip my head in apology. "I'm sorry." I whisper. My apology is somewhat ruined by Hero's barking. I shush him.

"Come." He ordered. "Now."

I obey him. Not deciding to push it.

The Creeper's eyes narrow at the dog. "Leave it." He jerked his head towards Hero.

"No." I say quietly but steadily. The Creeper merely grunts but continues onward.

When we reach the clearing, he gestures me into the shack, and I obey again. I put Hero in first, before I close the door, I hear his voice warn. "Don't run to humans again."

I should have been quiet, I should have said nothing, but the horrors of the night I ran away came flooding back, slamming into face. Burned my cheeks and caused tears to burn in my eyes. I shut the door, but not with me inside. I turn and face him.

"I wasn't running away." I hiss quietly, deadly. "And if I was it would be none of your business because I it's my right. I deserve to back with other people, my family."

The Creeper snorts, which just makes me angry. "I'm a human, I belong with humans!"

He shakes his head. "Will kill you."

I shake my head violently . "No they won't, you know nothing about people. You're just

A monster."

He laughs at my assertion, which just makes me angrier. "You're an inhuman monster!" I scream "You're piece of murdering-" He cuts off my nascent rant. "Humans kill more." He says simply.

"What?" I demand, not understanding. He gestures to my notebook, which he's been looking at. He writes down;

"Humans kill moar humans than I do." He misspells

That takes a bit of wind out of my sails. But I won't be distracted. "That still doesn't excuse what you've done." I point a shaking finger at him. "What you've done to_ me_. What you've done to the moonshiner." I gesture to his shack. To my surprise he shakes his head again.

He made a "follow me" signal and walked toward a snow bank. I'm wary but I follow him.

He bend down to digs up some snow and then brushes the rest away. I stare. He uncovers the poor moonshiner's shallow grave. I turn my head in disgust.

"Look," he orders, "look." He holds up a femur. There is a perfect neat hole in it., about the size of quarter. The other side is completely shattered.

I'm puzzled but it dawns on me. Such a thing looks familiar, but it's hard to place it. Then it hits me. It's a bullet wound.

The Creeper doesn't shoot people. Never has. People shoot at him, but he doesn't kill that way. Something else clicks in place: the ransacked shack. He doesn't care about valuable human things like money.

"So…so it was people, people killed him."

The Creeper says nothing. I turn back and head to the shack.

Later as I lay curled up with Hero I was fell asleep while deep in thought.

A/N: Sorry for any and all typos in this chapter. I figured getting it published fast (considering how long it's been since I've updated) was more important.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Boy, I'm sure they let you dig as much holes as you want in heaven.

Leaving

I was stupid to think it would last.

I was playing with Hero, a tug-of-war game with an old rag. I pulled, he pulled back while panting and drooling happily. When he tried to get a better grip with his big powerful jaws I pulled the rag loose. He barked and tried to lunge for it again. I yanked it away and dangled it teasingly. He yelped in excitement and tried to go for it again. Then he rose briefly on two legs to grab it, but I held it just out of reach.

It was a fun game, one the Creeper ignored as he loaded up his truck. I ignored him as well. He was always loading or unloading something from that awful truck, usually some equally awful cargo. He worked steadily.

Hero made a lunge and finally got the rag in his jaws again. We commenced our tug of war game again. He shook his head from side to side, trying to rip it from my grasp. I held on tight. "I'm not gonna let go." I said happily. He shook his head again, as if to disagree.

The Creeper seemed…antsy, lately. He would stop carving or eating suddenly and sniff the air. He would put down the old newspaper he was laboriously deciphering and pace around the clearing and the woods, sniffing or listening warily. He tried to kill Hero only once in the past few days. Mostly he ignored him now, as if he had bigger things to focus on. I noticed him examining the moonshiner's remains more than once, however. Almost as if they disturbed him, which is ridiculous. How can human remains disturb him?

Still I wondered at his attitude.

Hero finally succeeded in tugging the rag away from my hands. He gnawed on it happily.

"Okay you win." I declared. "But I'll bet you double or nothing with the tennis ball."

At the sound of the word "ball" he dropped his rag and wagged his tail. I smiled and hobbled over to the shack.

Hero probably saw or sensed it coming before I did. He began barking frantically. As I opened the door I noticed with a start all my stuff was gone. _Packed away? _I wondered. Then the monster grabbed me from behind.

I screamed, more from instinct than actual fear. Hero's barking grew closer, and I knew he was rushing at us. I prayed there wouldn't be a confrontation. However instead of dragging me inside the shack like I thought he would he dragged me outside. Toward the car. I knew what was happening.

"No, wait!" I cried out, but he ignored me. He threw me (but not roughly) into the passenger side. Then he quickly hopped over and entered the driver's door. I thought of twisting the handle and jumping out again, but he would only grab me, and it might cause a confrontation I didn't want. Hero was jumping frantically at the door and barking at the window. Trying desperately to get inside. The Creeper threw it heedlessly in reverse.

"Please, please, please, don't hurt him." I begged, tears in my eyes. How dumb I was to form an attachment with a stray animal. Hadn't I known he would only kill it in the end?

A slow smile spread across his face. Hero was still trying to get inside the car. He started forward and nearly hit him. I screamed. Hero backed away then tried to get in again. The Creeper reversed, aimed and lunged his car forward again. My heart jumped into my mouth, but Hero backed away in time, and continued barking.

By now tears were pouring down my face. I looked at the Creeper imploringly. "Please, please." Was all I could say. "Please just let him go."

He still had that smirk on face, and I knew he could kill Hero easily, it might even give him pleasure to do so, but I also know he could simply drive on and forget about him. The desire for vengeance isn't something he feels. I've seen him completely ignore people who have maimed him horribly, even though it would be easy to kill them, in favor of people who simply smell good. I guess his mind is really practical that way. The dog barked at and bit him while defending me, and that made him angry, but if he could solve the problem by driving away then by killing he could do so. He was a monster yes, but not an insane, unfocused killing machine.

That's what I hoped for now.

He gave a sort of faint shrug, as if to say "as you wish." He put the car in gear and drove off.

I looked at Hero. He was running to catch up. I saw him in the side mirror, running and running, still even as he got smaller and smaller. Finally he disappeared from the dirt road all together. I didn't cry. I said nothing.

I'd like to give you the happy ending. Maybe that Hero followed me all the way to our next destination miles away, sniffing me out the way only a loyal dog could. Maybe I could even tell you that the Creeper was so moved that his heart swelled three times it's size that day and let me keep him forever. But such never happened of course. Truth was I never saw him again.

We drove on.

Tower.

The Creeper, to me, seemed less wary as we drive on. He stopped sniffing the air reflexively He stopped looking over his shoulder. By the time we got to paved road he was relaxed and whistling "Jeepers Creepers" happily. I sat silently and wondered.

_Ever since he showed me that femur with a bullet hole_. Maybe a little before that. I thought, days and days afterwards he seemed wary, antsy, itching to be gone. He acted like a man, well, monster, being trailed, followed. Dogged, as they used to say in old westerns. But what did he have to worry about?

Well whatever it is he seems to have forgotten it now. I thought with a hint of bitterness. I wondered for the umpteenth time if it were possible to kill him. I thought not. All the stories and first hand evidence said he was immortal.

The thought of him being immortal added even more bitterness to my thoughts. He never has to taste death, but I will, one day, everyone I know will. My poor mother is gone forever, but he will live on. I closed my eyes.

I must have drifted off a little, for the next thing I knew it was sunset and the Creeper was suddenly pulling over. I jerked awake.

"Are we here?" I asked dully. Even though I didn't know where "here" was. The Creeper seemed to understand and shook his head. "No", he said with a touch of excitement, "tower."

_Tower?_ I thought, confused. I got out of the car, he let me.

About Fifty yards away was a single high tower. At first I thought it was electrical tower, but there was only one, and no wires hanging from it. I gazed up at it curiously. A tower in the middle of nowhere.

The Creeper rummages around and hauls out a huge rusty chain from the back of his truck. He grins at me. Then orders me to stay here by the road. I obey and he drives up to the tower.

I can see him well, but I hear him attaching the chain to a spindly leg, then here him revving his truck, it roars, groans, then one of the towers legs snaps.

He drives the car quickly out of the way. Then he steps up to the tower and with his colossal strength begins to bend, twist the steel. I've seen his strength before, felt it, but still my mouth hangs open in amazement as he grunts and sweat and twists a huge chunk of steel, warping it. Finally the support for the tower can't stand anymore and it groans. He stands and gives the tower one final push in the direction he wants it to go. I can hear him groan, see the muscles underneath his scaly skin ripple. The tower starts to fall slowly, then faster and faster as it gains momentum. He stands clear, grinning like a lumberjack that has brought down the biggest tree in the forest. The Tower keels over and finally collapses in a spectacular cloud of dust. Birds, panicked take flight. Finally everything settles.

When everything is quiet I am too curious to stand there by the side of the road. I hobble forward as fast as I can. I see a few pieces of metal, twisted by the fall. I hobble up closely, examining the spindly metal tower. I come to what uses to be the top when I spot some writing. I squint .

Suddenly the Creeper grabs me. "Stay back." He ordered. "Back." I catch a glimpse of the words "-OBILE CELLPHONE TOWER" as he shepherds me back to his car.

A flash appeared in my memory. I am running from the gas station, I am in my car, the BEATNGU is chasing me. I am desperate, frantic. I pick up my cellphone to dial for help and the screen answers coldly OUT OF RNGE.

My mouth works like a fish. I want to say something hut I don't. The Creeper sighs in satisfaction, as if he had done this job many times before, but it was always satisfying to do a good job again.

We drive on.

Hotel Hell

We stop driving late at night, when we come across an ugly squat building on a crumbling side road with the word HOTEL blazoned simply across them. I sight wearily and get out the car. The Creeper opens the back and brings out my stuff. I trudge inside.

It is as dank and nasty as come to expect from Creeper haunted places. And yet, at least there is a carpet underneath my feet, a roof over my head, an actual bed, not just a pile of straw. To my joy the Creeper shows me there is running water by forcing a rusting bathtub faucet open.

"Thank you." I whisper, trying to sound sarcastic as possible, but to my surprise, it comes out sincere. He grunts in acknowledgement then leaves me to enjoy my bath.

After I am clean I hobble down to the boiler room, a dank hell which of course the Creeper has already decorated with the remains of him meal. I am looking for my notebook. He has it open and he is studying my drawings. I hold my hand open for it back.

"No." He says suddenly. "Sit." and he forces me down next to him. He picks up my pen.

WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA. He writes.

"Hotel California?" I ask dully, waiting for the inevitable punch line.

"YOU CAN CHECK OUT ANYTIME YOU LIKE, BUT YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE. The he laughed so hard he rolled backwards. I smiled tolerantly, used to the weirdness of an inhuman monster quoting an Eagles' song.

That night, when I enjoyed a lumpy mattress instead of a couch or a bunch of straw for the first time in ages he came to me. He came to me repeatedly throughout the night as he fed and returned smelling of carrion. I didn't have Hero, I had nothing, I could not resist. So he made me screa, over and over again.


	29. Chapter 29

Blue Scarf

I dream of Hero, I dream of my mother, I dream of Darry. "Don't give up hope." He urges me, "Help is on the way-"

I feel myself being shaken awake.

"Whuh-uh?" I ask stupidly. I see the Creeper hovering above me with his shark grin on his face. He shakes me again, to make sure.

I groan and bury my head in my pillow. I adjust the pillow in between my knees. I swear my stomach has grown even more throughout the night. I feel tears spring to my eyes. I pull the covers over my head and groan again.

The Creeper strides briskly over to the curtains and snaps them open. Sunlight streams in and I flinch at its brightness. It's not fair something so golden and pretty can flood its way into this dank wretched place. It's a beautiful day in Motel Hell.

He grins again and shakes me. I groan a third time and tell him where to shove his good attitude. This does not deter him one bit. "Its good-morning time" he says happily and yanks away my sheets and blankets. I scream in outrage and cover my face.

He leans over the bed. "Come." He said quietly. "get up."

Gently, he pulls pushes and cajoles me out of bed. He waits patiently while I yawn and blink and splash my face. Then I follow him down into the boiler room.

He always makes me do something now. Whether it's take a walk, or draw or read something I must get up now and do what he says. I hate it.

I first I kicked and wailed and screamed and did my damned best to make life hell for him but I understood that his will, his patience, far outstripped mine. He was like an infinitely powerful parent calmly withstanding the most fearsome outburst I could throw at him. To him my worst most aggressive anger was a baby tantrum, nothing. Eventually I just did as he said, at best sullenly doing nothing. But I was up out of bed not sleeping the day away, and that made him content enough.

If I was in too sullen of a mood, as I was now, he merely sat and forced me to watch him. "Watch." He would say and I would watch him with horror as he played with a corpse, cutting it apart and sewing it back together. Less horrific but still terrible were his carvings. I would watch in fascination as demons, storms, monsters and helpless writhing humans took shape out of the ivory of human bone, the wood of his furniture and sometimes the even the steel of his blades. He was talented, no doubt about that. Sometimes he would encourage me in his art. I would refuse to touch the human bone of course, which he thought nonsensical, but just to appease him I would scratch out things on his wooden table and stools, and my efforts were sophomoric in comparison to his. I was a child tapping out "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" next to the master concert pianist.

So I drew, if I felt like it, which was the only artistic endeavor where I could only hope to surpass him. He had no idea to hold a pen or pencil while I had done all my life. He would prod me fascinated to draw more and more until I finally threw the pencil away in disgust. He merely laughed and picked it up.

He doesn't use most of my drawings, but some really fascinate him, mostly the ones I draw about him. I guess he's self-absorbed that way. He loved my dentada one so much he used in for several things, in several different ways. I regretted drawing it.

Other times he makes me walk. Sometimes literally dragging me along . I hate this even more. I don't want to walk I want to lie in bed all day, but he won't let me It's hard enough with the hobbles, which he only occasionally refuses to take off. But he figures I must do something. Before I laid around, eating crap food and getting no exercise. Now I must walk. Once he even tied a rope around my ballooning waist.

"If I break my leg will you shoot me?" I ask sarcastically and he merely laughs. I pull on the rope, determined to get this over with.

He takes me on walks through the countryside, through hidden trails and tracks I never would have seen before. Sometimes he even takes me flying.

I'll admit this, sometimes it's wonderful to be able to fly, even if I'm not doing the actual flying. It's good for taking a mind off things.

Except when he decided to make it a hunting trip as well.

He has plans, I can see him looking at me. Judging me.

Today he pulled out a blue scarf.

It took me a second to remember it then it clicks. He put it on me once before, when he gave me a dead woman's groceries. I blink and recoil, but he gathers me closer, smiling happily, with obvious pleasure. He puts the scarf on my head. Adjusts it, studies it, studies me. Again it feels so oddly familiar, but he says nothing. So I say nothing. But I walk away feeling uneasy.

Bait.

It isn't until a few days later that I realize what he is planning.

I'm sitting outside in the bright winter sunshine. The snow has melted. I am sketching away on some paper he has gotten me. I am missing Hero. I am drawing him.

Then he comes quickly swooping down like a bat out of hell. I barely glance up. "Honey, I'm home." I murmur sarcastically as I resharpen my pencil. To my surprise he immediately comes to me, forcing me to stand up and put my things aside. "Wha-?" I ask but he shushes me. Out of his coat comes the blue scarf. He puts it loosely around my head.

Then he forced me to sit outside on the dirt road. I wrap my arms around myself, confused and afraid. He has plans. I try to get up, not easy in my condition, and he forces me down. In confusion I try to remove the scarf, and he forces it back on. So I sit there quietly, cradling my stomach.

For a while nothing happens. I start to feel less afraid and more angry. This is stupid. I think. I'm about to rip off the scarf and try and get up again when I hear the distinct sound of an engine.

My first thought is that it's the BEATNGU, but no this doesn't sound like its distinct roar. It's coming closer though. I cock my head and listen.

It's some kind of muscle car of some sort, I don't know the make or model. I'm not good with cars. It comes roaring arrogantly down the countryside. I just know it has an equally arrogant young man inside. On top of the world, confident.

Then he sees me, slows down. Kicking up dust in his wake.

Maybe it's the oddity of a girl sitting alone by the side of the road, maybe it's the expression on my face. All I know is that he slows down his car. I can see him turning to me in surprise. Then he stops, my stomach clenches and I know what will happen a split second before it does.

The Creeper pounces on to the car. It rocks horribly. The man screams. I can see the Creeper peel the roof of the car like a tin of sardines. I close my eyes. I can't get up and run. The horrible sounds fill my ears I push my hands against them. _Please, please be over_. I think silently. When it is I slowly get up and go back into the Hotel.

Pertwilla

It was painful seeing the house. It was still covered in yellow police tape, although someone had boarded up the door. He couldn't go inside. It was "against procedure" but he could look at it. He could stand there like an townie gawker at Elsa Daniel's house.

Elsa Daniel's house, where his sister was last seen.

Miguel swallowed his spit. He expected to be more…moved maybe? All he felt was the same dull aching sadness he felt since he heard the news. He suddenly wished he was somewhere else.

Officer Binns had taken him to the hospital where Elsa was lying in a coma. Her children had already driven out to see her. They were no where in sight. He felt like another awkward visitor. He said nothing, did nothing but leave his cell phone number and make the police and staff promise to call if there was any sign of waking up, then he came here.

He didn't know what to expect. He wasn't Sherlock Holmes but he felt he had to come around here, look for clues. So far nothing had jumped out at him. He felt foolish.

The brother sighed and got back into his car. He had "Have you seen me?" flyers to pass out.

The Hunter

He had picked up something interesting on his CB radio; reports of a fire partially destroying an old schoolhouse. But reading between the lines he could hear the freaked out tone of the first responders, the urge to get police cars out there right way. He had almost nothing to go on, but he had a feeling. He jumped into his truck and pointed it in the direction of the old schoolhouse.

Bathtub

"I want to go home, I want my mother I want to go home I WANT TO GO HOME!" I screamed ripping off the scarf. It floats gently down onto the dresser in the motel room. I scream and pound the mirror, cracking it. I scream nonsense. I just want to go home. Not be used as human bait.

When I'm done raging I collapse onto the bed. Panting.

He is there, leaning against the doorway. He has that amused look on his face. Bastard.

"I want to go home." I moan pathetically to him. Knowing it would accomplish nothing.

He holds out his hand to me. "Are home." He says casually. "Come." I know I have no choice. I take his hand miserably.

He has a surprise for me. And for once it's not horrific.

There's a bathtub in the hotel, of course, there's one in every room. But I never bothered trying to use one. I doubt water is still pumped here. Yet the Creepers surprise is a bathtub full of hot steaming water.

"How?" I ask in surprise.

He gestures to the pipes, and mimes wrenching and other fixing gestures.

"How did you get the water so hot?" I ask, touching it gently with my hands, and he shows me an empty propane tank he keeps in the basement.

"Thank you." I say surprising myself with my sincerity. He merely grins in triumph.

A different kind of game

I stay inside my new gift until I'm soft and wrinkled like a prune. I use it repeatedly, everyday, I have never felt so clean in my life.

I remember how I used to play in the bath, or the municipal pool or the ocean when I was little. My long hair trailing around me like seaweed, I used to pretend I was a mermaid. Now I lay in the warm soothing water lost in my good memories. My huge stomach looks like an island above the water, I stroke it gently, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable fluttering sensation in it. I sway back and forth, trying to soothe myself.

When the water turns lukewarm, and finally cold I get out. Still naked, I reach for the door.

I open it the same time he reaches for it.

I jerk back in surprise, and his eyes widen. The he grabs me.

I let out a "no" that's really just a small shriek His eyes are wide and white with the dark grey skin. Open with arousal. He pushes up against me, rubbing. I can feel him through his coat. He starts smelling me, always with the damn sniffing. Licking me all over my swollen body, as if he's feasting on my flesh without actually eating it. The smell the taste, it drives him crazy.

I could feel his erection against my belly. He's starting to lick my face, my neck, my breasts. He wants inside of me badly. I try to squirm away further into the hot steaming bathroom. He grabs me and pushes me to the floor. I can see my terrified reflection in the shiny bathroom chrome, distorted and made ugly with fear.

He rubs himself against me, against my legs, my crotch, my butt. Why bother fighting? I know I'll lose. I try to submit. He enters me, groaning. It'll be over soon; I try to tell myself as I grit my teeth.

I can hear him sighing contentedly as he falls into the rhythm of his thrusting. I don't know how long this went on, he has a lot of stamina. My mind leaves my body, I am numb.

I began to notice things, his thrusts had slowed, his finger began to probe. I tried to shake him off. He probed deeper. I snarled and fought, he grabbed my hips and withdrew. I knew suddenly what would happen next.

My elbow snapped back and I hid him dead center, it felt like hitting a brick wall. He gave a grunt in surprise but wasn't terribly off put. Still I seized the opportunity and renewed my struggles, screaming. I managed to twist a little away and head for the open door. He grabbed and retrained me easily.

I knew it was no use, but I begged him not to do it, to just leave me alone. I felt his hardness against the small of my back and I knew he was far from done.

He held my elbows and twisted them back, forcing my belly and breasts out. I tried to ignore the fluttering in my belly. He urged me quickly to the bed and bent me over it.

"Don't do this, don't do this, don't do this." I sobbed helplessly, knowing that it was absolutely useless. I thought he'd ignore me utterly. Instead he leaned and whispered obscene things, his voice rough with desire. He slid his slimy shaft between my ass smoothly.

I cried out at the sudden intrusion but it did not hurt.

Everything about the experience was degrading, burned into my memory forever. I hated how he ran his raspy tongue over my back. I hated his moaning and groaning in sheer pleasure at tightness of his new plaything. I hated how he bent me over the bed. I hated how he braced his clawed foot on the mattress and used it as extra leverage to thrust. I hated every second of it.

I especially hated how it felt.

Later as he collapsed over me groaning and empty, he pushed me onto the bed and curled up around me, feeling my belly. I just cried.

Bed

It's nice to have a real bed again, one with a lumpy mattress true but nice to sleep on something that isn't a pile of straw.

I never leave the bed now, or I hardly ever. When he forces me up I have no choice, but I passively resist. When he puts the blue scarf on me I do nothing. When he rapes me again I do nothing. I just lay there, staring at nothing. Mostly I sleep.

He does not like it. He constantly pushes me out of bed and I go limp and heavy like a doll. I don't care any more, I just don't care.


	30. Chapter 30

Adams 30

_I am the doe, roaming the woods. I am innocent, content, my belly swells._

_Then I flee, the Hunter is after me. After ME. I feel the terror only a prey animal can._

_I run on swift and slender legs. I dodge and weave, still the hunter comes, the unnatural scent of Man carries on the wind, never ceasing always pursuing. I know it will come. I move into deeper brush, a weak shield, the shot will come. My lungs are bursting, I am so filled with terror I almost want it to come just to end it._

_It comes._

_Ahhh, not a clean shot. The Hunter is upon me. He whistles while he works, casual. I am nothing to him. He guts me._

_I scream in agony. The Hunter does not hear. Why do you do this? I ask. Suddenly the Hunter stands up, dropping his knife. Suddenly he can hear me, suddenly he can see me. He backs away in horror._

_Why did you do this to me? I whimper, but the Hunter is already backing away. Running, panicked before the shadow that comes down on both of us_.

The sheet I am under jerks off of me.

I do nothing, say nothing. The Creeper shakes me, shakes me again, more roughly. I am absolutely still.

He picks me up, I am completely limp, like a rag doll. He sighs in exasperation but carries me bridal-style to that house of horrors; the basement. I cringe slightly but do nothing else.

He plops me onto a chair, then tries to force me into sitting up, to watch him perform his "artwork" so I can possibly copy and make things to please him.

I do not comply.

Now giving a low screech of frustration he forces my body into the position he wants, upright head, focused, paying attention. I let him do whatever he wishes but he can't force me to look at his grisly work.

I close my eyes.

He knows he can't force them open, at least not without hurting me. But he does the next worst thing. The Creeper forces me onto his lap, then begins rubbing against me obscenely. I take it as long as I can before my heart feels like it will explode from my chest. "Enough!" I scream and I know to stop him now before he gets too aroused. He stops, knowing he's forced me to stop ignoring him.

He forces a bone in my hand, trying to get me to learn from him. I don't like touching human remains. I just break down. Crying hysterically. It's not my first time, it won't be my last. I just can't do anything anymore, I collapse on the table, sobbing.

He lifts me up but forces me to do nothing further. He knows he's broken me, he knows when I get like this there's simply nothing I can do except cry it out. I am limp, I curl up against his hard chest

I awake still on top of him. His arms work around me. I can hear him humming because my ear is against my chest. Tired, I pull myself up. I can feel that the buttons on his coat have left imprints on my face.

"I'm tired." I mumble, but he hears me. He gives a sound that seems in-between a sigh and a snort of frustration.

"Already slept." He challenges. True. But I have that horrible "I'm-exhausted" feeling I get from sleeping too much in the day instead of that "Waking-up-refreshed" feeling. I want to go to bed, and mumble out as such.

"_Already_ slept." He repeats, as if I'm slow. He sets me up on a chair and pushes my old notebook into my hands. "Draw." He says firmly.

I doodle mindlessly, already broken. I doubt anything I drew was good. I had failed to please. Finally, exhausted, I was allowed into bed.

Bait

I hate the blue scarf. I hate it, hate it, hate it. I hate it because when he puts the blue scarf on I know I'm going to be bait.

When I'm bait I lure people to their doom, upright decent citizens see an innocent girl in trouble and try to help, and then they get eaten. I hate it

I don't know why it's so familiar. Most of the time I don't think of it because wearing the blue scarf drives me into a fit of crying and hysterics. I know more innocent people will be killed, and I know it will be my fault.

They see me helpless, crying, even if I manage to take off the scarf he's pinned to my head they see me. They come to me, decent people wanting nothing more to help.

I try to warn them, try to chase them away but in the end he comes and there is nothing I can do.

Idol

I watch myself in the bathroom mirror as I wash the blood of his latest kill off my face. My eyes are glazed, dead looking. I didn't scream this time.

The scarf is still on my head.

I move to yank it off. As I do it brushes against my cheek and in a flash I realize why I've felt it familiar.

Junior High-age. Catholic Church. My mom in audience, beaming, proud. My father working the late shift, or drunk at home. I can't remember. One of my siblings was in the play, the rest were at home or with my mother.

I was in the annual nativity play our church put on every year. My mom had made me try out, I wasn't expecting the role, but I got it. I was the Virgin Mary.

I remember kneeling over the plastic baby in the manger, trying to look holy and serene and loving as the play director told me to look. The boy playing Joseph was grinning at me and I was trying not laugh. Kids dressed up as angels were singing as well as they could. My mom and her family were smiling, taking pictures. She was always very devout…

For the millionth time tears blur my eyes, but I don't let them fall. I stare at the blue hanging around my face without really seeing. That's what it had reminded me of. The memory came back all of a sudden. In the play I had worn a blue scarf on my head.

Suddenly in another rapid flash everything comes back. I remember the church I had foolishly run into. The House of Pain he called it. There was a Virgin Mary statue in there. For some reason they depicted her pregnant, swollen with an unborn savior, and I realize a nanosecond later with horror that's what he intended to portray. He wanted people to see me. They would feel sorry for me. They would identify me, at least subconsciously, with that image. And it would lead to their doom.

I am weak in my knees. I put my hand against the wall to steady myself. It's harder with my swelling body, vaguely I wonder how far along I am but the more monstrous thought overwhelms anything else. I'm being used as bait, dressed up as a beloved icon and used. It somehow seemed fouler than the use of my body, even with his recent discovery of a new plaything on me. A hint of Catholic guilt crept in maybe my childhood instruction was making me angry at his use of a holy icon, even though I haven't really believed since my mother died.

He comes in and sees me swaying in horror and concerned comes to catch me. I do not faint however. Anger stiffens my spine, I rip off the scarf and drop the gossamer wisp into his hands. My nostrils flare. "I'm done being bait." I declare. And I walk out of the room as proud as the hobbles allow me to.

I feel a fluttering in my stomach.

**When I want her I simply take her. Her struggles have no effect, or meaning.**

**It is a bit odd. I think back to my other breeders, they are afraid, repelled even as they are drawn to me, but after awhile they accept. No matter how reluctant they are they join to me, fulfilling their purpose to breed as I fulfill mine to eat. Some even seem to rejoice in their roles, although all do not thrive, or even survive.**

**Yet still-**_**still!-**_** this one resists me at almost every turn. If she is too tired to resist actively she resists passively. It is most exciting breaking down her barriers, make her body dance to my tune. Arousing.**

**Tonight after her silly declaration I take her again. I am careful not to crush the child inside of her with my weight. She does not resist, but when I turn her over she begins to squawk and defy me****. I grow excited again.**

**I had not wanted to waste the seed initially but she is so full and healthy that I must try this. She is so soft inside, and delightfully taut. She resists of course. She does not like this new game. I easily subdue her and I use her surrender to fuel my desire.**

**She is curved back, my strong hands on her thin arms to keep her from squirming away. Her beautiful swollen body is thrust away as far as it can from me while I plunge into her. I grin against the back of her neck and she shivers and tries to crawl away from me. I tighten my grip.**

**Suddenly I cry out and release myself deep inside of her. Doing it this way is a waste of emission, but oh so pleasurable. She hates it of course. **

**We both lay on the lumpy bed, panting and exhausted. I lay curled up around that fragile body. A body I can crush or rip apart with no effort, but one I must spend much time and energy protecting and feeding. A body that gives indescribable pleasure. **

**She does not resist anymore, she is too tired. So I hold her and whisper things to her, things about her body, how good it is, how much pleasure I will give her. She stiffens then cries.**

**I am honestly bemused.**

**She is always crying, whether in a rage or fear or some other emotions I can't name. She tried to escape, she yells at me, fights me. Where did such spirit come from? How much resistance does she have? I feel a small stab of annoyance. She is mine, she was mine the second she was born. Does she not see that? Why can't she accept it?**

**Suddenly I grab her face and turn it towards me. I look into her eyes. They are not as beautiful as the other breeder, Sky Eyes was her name. They are a brown so dark it's almost black. They remind me of a pool at night, you see nothing at the bottom, nothing reflects back. Right now they are wide with apprehension. Then her brows knit together and she tries to squirm away. I grab her chin and hold her face still.**

**Maria, her name is Maria, I think. She pronounces it an odd way, a way my stolen tongue inevitably mangles. In the ancient language Mar means sea, and I think of the dark seas on the moon. She once told me it meant bitter, and when I realized the pun I had to laugh, bitter like the way the sea tastes. But she tastes sweet.**

**I look into her frowning face. She squirms and demands to know what I want. Why is she so bitter? Do I not do everything for her? But humans while seeming to be simple little creatures, can be hard to understand.**

Dream

Darry comes to me, comforts me. Tells me not to give up. I want to scream. I've already given up. I barely have the energy to feed myself anymore. He smiles, puts his arms around me, I have more spirit than I know. He says.

_He uses me_, and I'm appalled how weak my voice sounds. _He uses me as bait and_- I really can't continue.

_I know_. He says with great gentleness. I can't even imagine your pain_. But I want you to endure, help is on the way._

_Help?_ I think in confusion.

_Your disappearance hadn't gone unnoticed, nor has that little fire in the schoolhouse you started._ I remember that with sudden clarity. _Help is coming, from more forces that you realize._ He sounds confident. Hope blossoms in my chest, then is immediately tinged with worry.

_What about_- I can find no word so I gesture helplessly to my stomach-_this?_

For a moment I sense unease from him. _Don't worry it'll-_

I hear a grunt come from the Creeper, he is getting up from his curled up position beside me. That's what woke me up. The mattress springs groan under his weight. Then without a second glance at me he gets up and leaves the room.

I sigh and settle back into the lumpy mattress.

Bait No More

I try to scratch at the bedbug bites on my arms, but my wrists are too tightly bound. The bites continue to itch. I curse the bed I sleep on, which seemed like such a nice alternative to a pile of straw.

My wrists are bound because I am bait again, despite my strong sure sounding proclamation the night before. Encouraged by Darry's reassurances I fought back; yelling, screaming, cursing, using my fists. All useless of course. He merely tied me up and set me up by the road anyway. Now I am helpless and tied up, while I know he is watching, waiting, ready to swoop down in a second. At least I know better now then to scream or call attention to myself. All that would do is attract more people. So I sit there silently, quiet, trying to look as if heavily pregnant women tied down by the roadside were a normal occurrence. Just keep driving people.

At least I didn't have the hobbles on. He took them off last night for the fun he wanted to have and didn't put them back on. I guess he figured he wouldn't need to use them on me when I was tied up like this.

I don't know how long I last before I fall asleep tied up like this, used as bait. The next thing I remember though is the man.

I'm being shaked. Something is sawing at my wrists and ankles. To my horror I see a man with a knife, but even as I jump I know what he's doing.

"Don't worry, girlie." He says as he fumbles with his pocket knife, then finally loosens my ankles. "I'll help you-" He stops at the look of horror on my face.

"Run." I whisper. He looks at me, mouth open. "Run away!" I shriek. Before he or I can do anything the monster pounces. I scream even though I was expecting it. The Good Samaritan cries out shrieking hysterically as he sees the monsters face. He screams for help. He helped me, but now I can't help him.

_Just run Maria_. The voice comes into my head. _Just run away_. And I really notice for the first time I'm not bound in anyway. The ropes are cut and the hobbles are gone. _Run_, the voice in my head screams. So I do.

It's not easy to run in my condition. I hold onto my stomach tightly, it flutters rapidly. Fear propels me but the best I can do is a light jog, then eventually a fast waddle. I know it's stupid but I just don't stop not even after he comes, bloody and highly annoyed, to stop me. Still in my hysteria I try to keep going.

"Stop." He orders roughly, and tries to grab me. I fight resisting with my weight, trying to drag my self out of his grip. "Stop!" he says with more annoyance. I ignore his commands-I should have known better and just obeyed- but I continued to try and fight, to run away. He didn't order a third time.

He screamed, a shocking, ear-piercing screech. Then the spines on his head started to writhe, then unfolded in a strange flare that caught the light of the setting sun behind him. The scream continued on a long wailing note as the spines and the membrane between them popped up and twitched around his head menacingly.

All my protestation and hysterics died in my throat. My brain just froze, trying to wrap itself around what it was seeing. I couldn't move. I was paralyzed. I stopped resisting, fear froze my limbs. A fear of him I hadn't felt in months.

Without a word he picks me up and carried me limply back to the motel. His head spines are still moving angrily

Crippled

**Twice I pick up my hacksaw and twice I decide against it. She ran away again. Although this time she was much less effective at getting away. Still the question pains me, what if she does get away?**

**Negative reinforcement and hobbles didn't work, she still wants to run and no doubt she will run again if the opportunity strikes. I want to scream again at the thought.**

**Still what I'm proposing could kill her.**

**It was fun using her as bait. There's always fun in a new way of hunting, but now the thought makes me uneasy. The man got in close to her with a weapon, even though he wasn't trying to harm her with it. The thought makes me very unhappy. I won't make that mistake again.**

**And I won't let her run away from me ever again.**

**She sits beside me quiet and subdued, as if she knows she done wrong. I study her levelly. Should I shouldn't I?**

I'm afraid and I don't know why, fear must be oozing from me, a smell I know he can pick up.

I don't know why. I've known for quite a while now that he won't hurt me, at least not seriously. And he would never, ever kill me. Still I feel the fear emanating from me.

Twice I see him pick up a hack saw. Then he put it down looking thoughtful. My throat tightens.

Maybe I should talk, to end the spiraling silence. I try to clear out the obstruction in my throat. He stares at me with an expression that makes me very uneasy.

"Look I-" What should I say; I'm sorry? The thought almost makes me want to laugh. My hands twist in what remains of my lap. "I-I was scared." I say lamely. He says nothing.

Without warning he lunges for me. He's so fast I can hardly believe it. My breath catches in my throat. He grabs me by the leg, it out from under me. I fall to the floor heavily, with a loud gasp, the wind knocked out of me. His hand slides quickly to my ankle, and for one moment I'm almost reassured. I think he will just part my legs, rape me again, but he does not grab my other leg. Instead he pulls my foot towards his mouth.

In the next second I understand.

_**NO!**_ I scream with stark terror and throw my weight backwards and resist with every bit of strength in my body. Still my foot moves towards the gaping maw.

He's going to bite my foot off for running away.

My mind is in blank panic now. I'm screaming, fighting my mind scrabbling in a panic, trying to do anything to avoid this situation. But all my strength just barely resists him, my foot just keeps moving remorselessly to his mouth.

I kick him in the face. The sudden resistance and jerk takes him by surprise. I see him blink at the sudden movement, his grip loosens just a bit and I think for a moment I can slip free but hig grip just tightens and I'm pulled again toward that jagged mouth. I kick him in the face with my other foot.

"ohgodpleasenostopI'LLDOANYTHINGpleaseno!" I babble hysterically. I can feel his breath on my heel. His mouth is so huge, and my foot is so small.

Then he stops. Considers. The tiniest bit of hope flares in my brain. He lowers my foot slightly. The tiny flare becomes more than an ember it erupts wildly. But maybe he's just toying with me.

He stops, looks me right in the eye, and he gives my ankle a horrible wrenching twist.

I pass out from the pain.

Leaving

When I wake up suddenly the first thing I feel is that my terror-sweat has congealed on my face. I feel cold and clammy in the cool night air.

The second thing I feel is the pain, coming from my right foot. _Oh God, Oh God_. Sick terror fills my stomach. I struggle up to my elbows trying to see over the mound in my stomach. I let out a small cry and with a great deal of pain I wrench myself up.

For a moment there is relief, my foot is there, and not a bloody stump at the ankle like I expected, but it's at an unnatural angle, and swollen to what looks like three times it's size. I nearly pass out again from the pain.

I don't know why he spared me, maybe it was just a bluff, but I sob in mingled pain and relief. I collapse back down onto the floor. The basement ceiling is swimming before me. Before the darkness takes me again I feel a fluttering in my stomach.

Over the next few days I don nothing but lay in my bed, only moving when he decided to move me. I obey him instantly now. The pain is horrible but it's subsided now into a duller throb. Aspirin helps.

I can't tell if it's broken or just sprained horribly. He has strength enough to break it, but maybe it was a rare act of mercy.

Whatever it is I can't run now. I can't even walk.

He's getting restless again. Looking down the road as if we were being followed. When it's time to leave Hotel Hell he packs up our belongings, and loads me in the truck like a piece of luggage.

When the BEATNGU pulls out I feel a fluttering in my stomach. The curious feeling that I've been feeling for weeks and weeks. It's an annoyance more than anything, and almost all but forgotten in the sea of pain I've been floating in lately.

The with a flash of insight I am thunderstruck.

_It's moving inside of me._

The BEATNGU pulls out into the road.


End file.
